


Get Money, Get Paid

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Background Relationships, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Torture, Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fake Marriage, Feels, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Steve, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Slurs, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Torture, Villain Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arno, Tony's sadistic evil brother, usurps control of the Iron Legion with the help of someone close to Tony. Tony's left reeling. In due time, he and Steve, the leader of the Howling Commandos, form an unlikely partnership. A rival gang, the Guardians, led by the charismatic Peter, threatens the status quo. Seeing no other way to protect Tony, with whom he's in love, Steve proposes a fake marriage, which Tony accepts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarialdarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarialdarion/gifts), [Saved by the notepad (PreciousI)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Saved+by+the+notepad+%28PreciousI%29), [XinRui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XinRui/gifts), [roachalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachalk/gifts).



> You can also find the fic on [Tumblr](http://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com/tagged/get-money-get-paid).

"Where the fuck is he? He said he'd be here by now and I don't like to be kept waiting." Steve looked down at his watch. It was half past twelve. Bucky stood at his side, the soft snow falling beside them, as they stood, hidden in the shadows.

"I don't know what made you believe he'd show up on time. He drinks so much, it's hard to believe he's even conscious. I'm surprised he can still tell time. Fuck, do they even have any whiskey to sell," asked Bucky, his hands in his pocket. On the small of his back sat a handgun, concealed under his jacket. Without needing to touch, he knew Steve had a gun in his shoulder holster.

Steve preferred to keep things simple. He was all business. _This is a business deal_ , or so, he kept telling himself as the minutes passed.

"Bucky, shut the fuck up. The man's a genius, drunk or not."

"Oh! No need to get so defensive, Captain. I know you have the hots for him." Bucky pulled out a cigar and, out of courtesy, offered one to Steve, who took one look at it and curtly nodded his head, declining the offer. Bucky shrugged and took a puff as he flexed his metal hand. Steve turned to look at him. His eyes were as cold as the December air that surrounded them. He didn't say a word.

Moments later, they heard the sound of footsteps echoing on the pavement. Steve knew it could only be Tony. No one else would've been out at this time in this kind of weather.

Tony, despite his many addictions – booze, women, and cards – carried himself, as did men of his social class with pomp and circumstance. He was elegant, a quick talker, and an even faster thinker. His brilliance left others wondering when they'd been left behind long after he was gone. His charisma was contagious. You couldn't help but want to be in his presence.

"I see you brought company," said Tony meeting Steve's eyes and grinning at Bucky, whose guarded expression betrayed nothing. He pulled a flask from his coat pocket. "If you don't mind –"

Steve grabbed Tony's wrist. It was smooth, one fluid motion. "Actually, I do. Bucky, would you leave us? I've some matters I want to discuss... In private." Bucky nodded and eyed Steve curiously before walking back to the car stationed a few blocks away.

"Okay Rogers, spill," said Tony without preamble.

What happened next surprised him.

One moment he was standing in the middle of an alleyway in some dingy part of Brooklyn as snow fell on him. The brisk December air chilling his cheeks. Next thing he knew, Tony was being pinned to the brick wall behind him, Steve's teeth grazing his neck. "I have a plan."

Tony could barely muster a breathy "OK" before Steve took a bite. He could feel the bruise forming. Steve cupped his face. "I don't like the way that pretty motherfucker looks at you." Tony knew he was referring to Peter, leader of the Guardians, the new mob in town, but he wanted to hear it from Steve. It gave him a cold sort of satisfaction to know that Steve cared enough that this got under his skin.

"Have you fucked him yet?" Steve pulled away and met Tony's cerulean eyes.

Tony pushed him off him. "No, I haven't. You can't believe the rumors." He looked down, deliberately not meeting Steve’s eyes, in an attempt to hide how hurt he felt.

Steve pulled him in and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. "I haven't forgotten what I promised you. We'll get her and we'll get your brother. I'll be damned if I let that asshole get away with this. Now, this jerk comes into town thinking he can call the shots." He continued to play with Tony's hair as they stood, transfixed, momentarily forgetting that this wasn't their life, that men like them didn't get to be happy, and surely not with each other.

"I thought you said you had a plan," said Tony, his head in the crook of Steve's neck.

"I do. We're going to get married." Tony stared at him incredulously. He suppressed his laughter. “You’re serious?”

Steve looked at him and responded earnestly, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, for starters, the woman I was going to marry tried to kill me. Turns out she was working not for you, but for my brother, so you’ll understand if I’m a little wary of getting married,” said Tony involuntarily reaching for his flask before Steve’s hand wrapped over his.

Steve took a deep breath, “I don’t say this often, so you better remember this: I’m sorry I sent her to you, but I couldn’t know what would happen. She was –” he sighed again, still holding Tony’s hand in his, over his heart. “She was a good spy. She was just supposed to seduce you; I couldn’t know you’d fall in love or that she’d double-cross us and side with your brother.”

“Yeah, well, we both lost that battle. I would appreciate if we didn’t talk about my ex while you groped me, though,” said Tony slightly exasperated. He was still pinned against the wall. Steve’s massive figure looming over him and peppering his face with kisses as he held him tightly.

“Fine. Perhaps we should get going,” reasoned Steve. The snow was falling faster now. His cheeks burned from the cold and he knew Tony couldn’t be comfortable.

"Your place or mine? I brought a car," said Tony, jingling his keys in front of him. _Clever bastard_ , thought Steve to himself but he approved of the foresight.

"You have a place in Brooklyn," asked Steve, disbelievingly.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"You fucking hate Brooklyn," scoffed Steve.

"Hate the sin, love the sinner, darling. Unless you’re willing to going back to Manhattan at this hour," responded Tony coyly.

"Bucky's right: you're making me soft." Steve took the keys from his hand and replaced them with his fingers, kissing Tony's knuckles. “I’m pretty sure I did the opposite of that, but I have no problem starting over when we get inside.”

“You’re relentless,” snickered Steve.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” responded Tony flashing his best smile.

They started walking toward Tony's car, a few blocks away. The snow was still falling heavily all around them and their footsteps were wet as they moved. "So, how exactly are we going to get married?"

Steve followed closely behind Tony, who was leading the way, his hand on the small of his back. “We'll let Peggy figure that out.” Moments later, he pulled Tony aside and whispered in his ear, "I'm going to fuck you until your throat's too sore to beg."

Steve didn’t have to look to know Tony was smirking. They continued walking down deserted streets until they reached Tony's black Ford.

"I love it when you whisper sweet little nothings in my ear, darling," responded Tony as Steve pulled him in and pressed his lips to his. Despite being outside, late at night, and in the snow, Steve didn't hold back. Leaning against the passenger side door, he kissed him, savoring each moment. Passionately exploring his mouth with his tongue. His swollen lips sporting bite marks from Tony, who tried to suppress a groan.

“We should probably get inside before someone catches us.” Steve quickly surveyed their surroundings. They were in the industrial part of Brooklyn and on a snowy December night, he knew there wouldn’t be anyone watching, but it wasn’t worth the risk. He nodded in agreement, as Tony unlocked the passenger side door. “ _Captain_ , after you.”

 

"How much longer before I can undress you?" His voice rougher than the asphalt on which they drove. His hands gripped Tony's knees.

"Darling, you can undress me whenever you like, but I prefer to be warm." He shifted his gaze from the empty road just long enough to flash him a smile that was much too sheepish to have come from Tony. He could only think of Tony, face down on the bed, beads of sweat pooling around his forehead, his hands griping the sheets, as he thrust into him. He could feel his body clench around him, the feel of his skin underneath his fingers. _We’re almost there. Patience._

Steve kept his hands to himself on the elevator as Tony discussed mundane matters with the bellhop.

At first, Steve couldn’t understand how two men raised in the same household differed so much. Over time, it was apparent that Howard had preferred Arno, the more abrasive of the two brothers. However, Maria was the brains behind the operation. She ran the crime syndicate, while her husband made his fortune in steel, and she had always had a soft spot for Tony, which Arno wasted no time in exploiting.

 

Steve would never forget that night.

_“Steve, I –” He collapsed; falling to his knees, he started crying. In between deep gulps of air, he muttered, “She murdered my parents. I – I went to visit them and – and she sat there, their blood on her dress as she – she wiped her blade clean.”_

_Steve looked at Bucky, who walked over to Tony. He kneeled next to him, putting his metal hand on his shoulder, “Tony, do you know who sent her?”_

_At that moment, Peggy came crashing in, screaming, “Steve! Steve! Arno Stark had his parents murdered!” Bucky shot her a look and she quickly covered her mouth in horror when she realized who was kneeling on the floor, crying. “Oh God, Tony!”_

 

By all rights, Tony should hate him. Steve had, albeit unknowingly, sent Natasha his way. Not only would she break his heart, but also, she’d betray him. She publicly broke off their engagement and spread rumors about him. Weeks later, it was revealed that Arno had hired an assassin to kill his parents so that he could inherit the business, leaving Tony in the dust. It wasn’t clear whether Arno knew Natasha was the assassin but it didn’t matter, the damage was done: Tony had caught her in the act and for that, he could never forgive her.

 

They were at a gala. The Metropolitan Museum of Art held one annually and they had both graciously accepted their invitations. Trepidation crept up Steve’s spine when he saw Tony chatting with a tall, blonde woman, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It had been a few months since that scene in his office whereupon Tony had collapsed on the floor after finding his parents, murdered in cold blood. Steve didn’t know how to act around Tony. They had had a complicated relationship before, but now, it seemed like they would never be able to move past the bloodshed.

Steve should’ve known better. Tony was a better man.

“Steve! This is Carol.” Steve took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles lightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” She eyed Tony and the two exchanged silent words. “I’ll leave you two gentlemen to it. Goodnight, Captain,” she quipped as she strode across the room. “She’s quite a woman.”

“That she is.” Tony took a sip of his whiskey and looked at Steve as he licked his lips. His expression changed when he saw that Steve looked crestfallen.

“Steve, you couldn’t have known,” said Tony reassuringly.

 _I should be the one reassuring you._ “Yes, but I sent her to spy on you,” admitted Steve.

“But I knew that. What? You think I didn’t know. I knew she was a spy and I still… I just… I never thought it would end this way.” He rubbed his temples, the glass of whiskey still in his hand, its contents threatening to spill. “C’mon Tony, don’t beat yourself up over this.” He took the drink out of Tony’s hand and motioned for him to follow. Steve placed the drink on the nearest table as he and Tony walked out, unnoticed.

Steve never would've suspected what happened next. Tony pinned him against the wall. “If you wanted me, why didn’t you come to me yourself?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me,” said Steve as Tony pulled him in for a kiss, their lips pressing together.

Tony pulled back and eyed him, in disbelief. “Have you looked in the mirror? Why wouldn’t I want you?”

“I don’t know… I couldn’t be sure…”

“Spill it, Rogers,” said Tony as his hands moved along Steve’s body, delighting in the opportunity to touch him.

“Can I take you home and fuck you?”

Tony laughed, “Oh, that would be my pleasure.”

Steve could still hear Tony’s muffled passionate screams into the pillow, as his sweat-slicked body quivered in anticipation. He had leaned over, his hand resting on the bed, as he kissed his shoulder. He could still taste the salt. He had pushed his hair to the side and breathy, had whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this, when you’re falling apart.”

 

Steve’s thoughts shifted back to the present. _Arno wouldn’t have noticed the bellhop_. Tony knew the man’s name and talked to him as if they were friends. Perhaps, at first, Steve would’ve dismissed this as just part of Tony’s charm, but now, he knew that wasn’t true. Tony genuinely cared for people. _You’re in the wrong business. Caring for people in our line of work is a weakness._ Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of envy.

They reached the landing of the penthouse. Just as he closed the door, Steve pulled Tony’s coat off. “Undress, now.”

“Aw, but that’s no fun."

“Tony,” said Steve, frustrated, “you made me wait for you. Bucky and I stood in the snow for over half an hour. You are in no position to make any sort of demands. I just need to know your safeword.” He eyed Tony, his pupils dilated. Only a thin ring of blue remained where once pools swam. He moved toward Tony, who didn’t hesitate and did as he was told.

“Italy.” Steve eyed him curiously. “You don’t get to ask, just go with it.”

 

“Why do I always end up tied up?” He was breathing erratically. His hands were pinned above his head and tied with rope to the headboard. A red blindfold covered his eyes. His skin glistened with sweat. Steve cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his swollen lips. “If you want it to stop, you know what to say. Are you okay?” Steve looked at him worriedly.

Tony leaned into his touch, whimpering. “Don’t… Don't stop."

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and whispered, “You’re so beautiful when you whimper.” He bit down on the soft skin just below his collarbone. Tony’s hands clenched up and he moaned into Steve’s hair, slick with sweat. Steve lowered himself onto him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Tony bit down on his shoulder. _He must be close_ , thought Steve to himself. He steadied himself with one hand on Tony’s waist; he moved the other to brush the hair from his face. “Not yet.”

Steve continued to tease him until he felt himself getting close. He gripped himself tightly, stroking up and down in quick, successive motions until he came. He could feel his body tightening. It was only a matter of time before Tony came too.

Steve didn’t care that he was dripping on the sheets. He untied Tony and massaged his wrists. Tony wrapped his arms around his neck and murmured, “I missed you.” Steve wrapped one hand around his waist and pulled him close, with the other, he pulled the blindfold off. It took Tony a second to acclimate to the pre-dawn light that filtered in through the window.

Steve cleaned them up and changed the sheets. He put Tony, who was seconds away from falling asleep despite his protests, to bed before getting in beside him. "Goodnight," he said as he kissed his shoulder one last time before turning on his back, his arms under his head. He took a deep breath. _Does he know I love him? Does he know this isn’t pretend, that this is the only way I can protect him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some older buildings, particularly those in Manhattan, still have bellhops. I know it's Brooklyn, just run with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony woke up and shifted onto his back as he stretched. He massaged his wrists involuntarily. It took him a moment, but eventually, his mind caught up; he remembered the night before. A tender smile flickered across his lips. _That was fun._ He looked around the room. The mid-morning light filtered in through the window. It was a dull gray December morning. _He left the drapes open_ , mused Tony.

They were on the highest floor overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge; no one would be able to see them. _It wasn’t an oversight_ , thought Tony. Steve didn’t overlook things. Steve was punctual and methodical. Everything he did had a reason, even if that reason wasn’t immediately apparent. If he left the curtains wide-open, he did it on purpose. _That kinky bastard_ , thought Tony, pleased with himself.

Steve was nowhere to be found. _I couldn’t have imagined it_ , he thought wistfully. He could still feel Steve’s arms wrapped around him as he kissed his shoulder and murmured, quietly into his ear, “Goodnight.” _Steve must still be here._ He listened for any noise and he heard, faintly, in the distance, something coming from the kitchen. He rose and walked over to the chair at the foot of the bed and pulled on a robe. It was the color of an autumn sunset. He slid his feet into the matching slippers and peered through the door, which Steve had left ajar.

“Steve?”

In the distance, he heard. “In here.” The sizzling of the skillet brought a small smile to his face. “Oh good, breakfast,” beamed Tony upon seeing Steve standing in front of the stove, frying eggs and bacon. “Is this because I’m your fiancé,” teased Tony. Steve turned to him; a timid grin illuminated his features. His hair was still tousled. The tank top he wore clung to his muscles appreciatively, as did the sweatpants around his hips. He looked entirely too domestic for a man who spent his evenings pummeling men with his fists and counting counterfeit bills.

“About that – are you – do you – if you want to back out…” For a moment, Steve looked dejected, as if Tony were to kick him out yelling ‘game’s over.’ It had surprised Tony to find out that Steve, the infamous Captain, who commanded authority by just walking into a room, was a reserved and timid man. He so often saw the rugged exterior that he thought it to be Steve’s only skin. _It’s what the job calls for_ , thought Tony, grimly.

 

Tony thought back to the first time they met and how many times, since then, their paths had crossed. _It’s always been Steve._

 

“I’m not backing out, Steve. I mean – I let you fuck me blindfolded.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we haven’t done that before,” said Steve, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks, knowingly avoiding Tony’s gaze as he served them breakfast.

“Steve, I brought you here.” Tony pointed to the penthouse around them with its simple but lavish furnishings. “You didn’t even know I had a place in Brooklyn.” Steve walked over and placed their plates on the island beckoning Tony to sit next to him, which he did, gladly. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I know all your residences –”

“Rogers, I call bullshit. You had Natasha spy on me for what, one, two years. She knew I had purchased this place…” He stared at the dish before him and willed himself to eat. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry. The memories overwhelmed him and he tried to push them away. The image of her, by his side. The smell of her perfume. The way she wrapped her arms around him, throwing her head back in pleasure, her long, auburn hair falling well past her shoulders. _Was it pretend? Did she ever love me?_

Steve spun around, sensing Tony’s distress. “Oh… Tony… Why – I – well…”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tony far too quickly for it to be convincing. “Looks like I’m getting married and to a lovely fiancé who cooks breakfast for me,” remarked Tony. His pitch an octave too high. Steve looked at him anxiously, waiting for the backlash that was sure to come.

“Listen,” said Tony as he placed a palm on Steve’s thigh, taking a deep breath. “I have every reason to hate you but I don’t.” Steve leaned over and cupped his cheeks. _He’s so warm_ , he thought as he leaned in and kissed him, slowly, savoring the moment.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “I thought you said no one knew of this residence,” retorted Steve, clearly annoyed with the disturbance.

“No, I said you didn’t know of this residence.” Tony rose from his seat, tying his robe as he strode over to the door. Steve watched him apprehensively, admiring the curve of his back and the sway of his hips as he walked. He opened the door and in walked the tall, blonde woman Steve had met at the MET gala: Carol.

“Hey, Tony… Oh…” She paused and took in her surroundings: Tony, still in a bathrobe and Steve, in pajamas. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” she eyed Tony playfully as he lead her into the apartment. She took off her jacket and hung it up, making her way to where Steve sat. “I should’ve called ahead. I could use some breakfast. I’ve been up all night. Word on the street is that you two are getting married.” She looked between the two men, who exchanged glances.

“How’d you find out?” Steve asked as he walked over to the refrigerator. “The orange juice is in the back, just move the milk,” responded Tony, anticipating the question Steve hadn’t asked. Carol looked befuddled. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She spun in her chair, having taken Steve’s vacant seat, and faced Tony, who was still standing, his hands on the chair in which he had been sitting. “Not that I thought Bucky was lying, but Jesus Christ, are you sure you two aren’t already married?”

They both spoke at the same time:

“Why were you with Bucky?”

“Why would Barnes lie?”

“Flip of a coin, who do I answer first: the Captain or Antonio?” Tony shrugged and Steve, who was pouring three glasses of orange juice, failed to answer. “Guess I’ll start with the Captain. I went down to Fort Greene. Peggy called me; she said Peter was down there. Now, that sonofabitch aggravates me, so I went. When I got there, it was snowing. Bucky was waiting. He looked pissed, said something about getting ditched in Williamsburg,” she eyed the two men, curiously. “Hey, I already knew. Listen – I don’t care. You’re both adults and now, you’re getting married. It’s none of my business, really.”

“You seem to have a lot of opinions for someone who doesn’t care,” spouted Steve before he could stop himself. She glared at him.

Tony, choosing to diffuse the situation, changed the topic. He turned to Steve and said, “Wait, when did you tell Barnes? I was with you the whole time.” Steve walked over and put his hand on Tony’s shoulder as he passed him the glass, which Tony took appreciatively.

“I told him my plan in the car,” said Steve as he took a sip.

“You didn’t know I was going to say ‘yes’,” countered Tony, who brushed his hand away.

“I didn’t have a reason to think you wouldn’t. Was I wrong?”

“No, but that’s not the kind of decision you get to make,” responded Tony, the frustration in his voice evident.

“I hate to break-up this fight, I really do, but I don’t have all day… Can I finish my story?” She turned to look at Steve, who was ignoring her. Tony grumpily motioned for her to continue. “Listen, if you’re really getting married, then this pertains to you both: Peter took the entire shipment. I don’t know who the fuck he thinks he is, or what kind of games he’s playing, but if we’re trying to run our business, he needs to go.”

“What was in the shipment,” asked Steve.

“The usual: weapons, drugs… typical,” responded Tony. Steve wasn’t convinced. “No, really. What was in that shipment?”

“I should be asking how _your_ people knew about that shipment. Why was Bucky there?” Tony hadn’t meant to raise his voice but he couldn’t control his anger.

“You mean _our_ people,” retorted Steve unable to refrain himself.

The tension in the room was palpable. Carol walked over to the sink and started washing her empty cup. She turned to face them; they were standing with their arms crossed.

“Prototypes. My company – well, _Arno’s_ company,” said Tony derisively, “has been selling prototypes to the Chinese government. I may be a criminal but I have boundaries. My brother, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, has none. He probably couldn’t define the word ‘boundary’.”

“What kind of prototypes?” Steve's patience was wearing thin. He wanted answers.

Tony, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing against his temple, responded, “Biological weapons. Now, I don’t know about you but I have no problem extorting billionaires, selling drugs to partygoers, or weapons to guerrillas who want to establish a New World Order. However, I _do_ have a problem with my brother using my family’s name and fortune to sell weapons of mass destruction to the highest bidder, in this case, the Chinese.”

Carol jumped into the conversation. “As the liaison between the government and Arno’s company, I was the one who told Tony. I overheard him talking to his secretary.”

“Let me guess,” said Steve. “Natasha.” Carol nodded and continued talking, “They’re his patents, but now, they’re in Arno’s hands. It’s in everyone’s best interests if this technology stays within our borders.”

She walked back to the island and took Steve’s seat. Facing Tony, she continued speaking, “Our goal had been to seize the shipment before it left the harbor and destroy it. The Extremis virus is volatile. In the wrong hands, it’s deadly. Peter must be working with Arno. I have to give it to your brother, Tony; he’s clever. It’s a smart plan but we’re smarter.”

Tony sat down and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how this marriage is going to fix anything, Steve.”

“I can answer that, Tony,” said Carol, cautiously. “Peter has made it clear that he wants you and marrying Steve buys you protection. The Extremis patents have your name all over them. We all know you can handle yourself but if you want your company back, if you want to keep your empire afloat, you’ll do what you’re told.”

Carol turned to look up at Steve who was standing behind her. “If he gets hurt. If this backfires. If Peter, Arno, and Natasha get away with this. I’ll bring Peggy your head on silver platter. Don’t doubt me for a fucking second. Tony may have forgiven you but I haven’t.” She leaned over and kissed Tony’s forehead, her hand on his thigh.

She rose, forcing Steve to move back, and stood in front of him. “You started all of this.”

He met her icy stare with one of his own. “I know. I’m well aware of that, Carol.”

“Well, then, I hope I’ve made my point clear.” She turned to look at Tony, whose guarded expression betrayed nothing. To the untrained eye, he looked at ease, but Carol knew better. She knew it was just a façade. _He’s worried._

Her expression softened and she spoke tenderly, “I’m meeting Rhodey. We’ll figure this out.”

Facing Steve, she said, “Good luck with your impending nuptials. I’m crashing if I don’t get an invite.” Tony chuckled in response. “Wouldn’t think of excluding you, darling.”

She leaned in to hug him. He brushed her hair back, fondly. “Sometimes, I miss the Mohawk.” She giggled, “Yeah, Rhodey says that too. Who knows? Maybe, I’ll cut it for the wedding.” She kissed his forehead once again and walked toward the door. As she was putting on her jacket, she turned to Steve. “I mean it: take care of him.” Steve nodded.

With that, she was gone.

“She means well,” said Tony, turning to face Steve, who sat down next to him and stared at his cold breakfast. “There’s a microwave,” said Tony, grabbing the dish and walking toward the counter. “I haven’t had coffee yet and it’s almost noon. I’m sure that’s a record.” He took out two mugs from the cabinet and began preparing the espresso.

“She’s a good friend. You need more of those,” responded Steve.

 

It was half past two when the phone rang.

“Yes,” responded Steve, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. The bed-sheets pooled around his hips.

_“Bloody hell, where are you?”_

“Peg…”

In the distance, Steve heard Bucky say, _“He’s probably still with Stark.”_

“Peggy, if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’m hanging up.”

Beside him, Tony shifted. He flashed Steve a mischievous grin, straddled him, and started nibbling on his other ear. Steve stifled a groan and with his shoulder, held the phone to his ear, as his hands wrapped around Tony’s waist.

_“I did, as promised. I have the documents you need.”_

Steve, doing his best to keep his voice even, responded. “Good. Keep me updated. Bye, Peg. We’ll talk later.”

In the background he heard Bucky say, _“I told you not to call him,”_ just before Peggy hung up.

“I swear to God, Stark –”

“Swearing to God is the kind of thing you do once I’m inside you, darling,” retorted Tony.

In one swift motion, Steve flipped him on his back and leaning over him, spoke into his ear. “I’m going to put that mouth of yours to good use.” He licked his lips and leaned in to kiss him as he ran his hands down his body. He drew back and resting on his heels, pulled Tony by his hair, and kissed him again. His eyes watered and a moan escaped his lips. “Steve, please…”

“ _Captain_ ,” retorted Steve. He stood and walked to the night table, leaving Tony with his face flushed.

“Oh, is that how this is going to go?” Tony sat with his legs crossed in the middle of the bed, the sheets ruffled around him.

“ _Sir_ ,” demanded Steve. He stood at the edge of the bed with a yard of rope in one hand and handcuffs in the other.

“Is that how this is going to go, _sir_?”

“Yes, now… What’s your safeword?”

“Italy,” said Tony. Steve couldn’t help but think, _he looks so thoroughly debauched, and I haven’t done anything. At least, not yet._

“Good… At any point, if you want it to stop, just say the word and I will, no questions asked.”

Steve moved toward him, crawling across the bed, and began to tie his hands behind his back, dragging him to the edge. “Now, this is for teasing me on the phone.”

Slightly out of breath, Tony asked, “What are you going to use first?”

“Rope.” Tony nodded his consent. “We’ll see if we get to the handcuffs.”

Steve’s sheer, brute strength never ceased to amaze Tony. Having tossed the handcuffs out of the way, Steve took hold of his jaw and forced his mouth open. “Do as I say. Now, swallow.”

Tony closed his eyes and did as he was told. He didn’t even twitch when he felt the tip touch the back of his throat. He remembered Steve’s words from the night before. _I'm going to fuck you until your throat's too sore to beg_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some elements of 616 I want to explore, like Extremis, so bear with me.
> 
> Also, what do you think of the porn?


	3. Chapter 3

Tony stood in front of the window overlooking Central Park, tumbler in hand. The remnants of the ice floating at the top of the amber liquid. It was still full. He had taken only a small sip but the feel of it between his fingers – that heavy weight – was more comforting than the burn in his throat.

The city glittered in the dusk. The lights from the buildings shimmered, beckoning. _The city always looks its best at night_ , thought Tony, wistfully. His palm rested on the frosted glass. He could feel the chill running down his arm but didn’t move. Instead, he took in a deep breath and exhaled, fogging the glass.

Behind him, littered across the floor, were blueprints and files: hundreds of sheets of paper lying in piles. Sifting through the paperwork had been exhausting. Tony had spent the majority of the day combing through his plans. He couldn’t help but think of the flurry of inspiration that had caused him to draft them or the satisfaction he had felt when he saw his ideas coming to fruition. _For what_? Thought Tony, suddenly sullen. _What good could this have possibly done? I should’ve known it would get in the wrong hands. I should’ve known…_

He didn’t hear Steve enter but that wasn’t unusual. If ever there were a person capable of sneaking up on Tony, it was Steve.

“What happened here?” The faintest trace of concern outlined Steve’s face as he spoke.

“Me,” responded Tony, drowning the contents of his glass and setting it on the coffee table as he walked by. “Extremis. I dug up every file I could find of the damned virus.”

“A virus,” asked Steve, brimming with curiosity. “I thought you said it was a biological weapon?”

“It is,” retorted Tony, “but it’s viral.” He sat on the sofa with his back to the darkening horizon.

Steve quietly sat next to him, picking up the stack of papers at his feet, and sifting through them. He turned to face Tony, whose head was in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Steve put the papers back on the floor and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tell me about Extremis.”

“I didn’t design it. The original programmer was one of the smartest women I’ve ever met,” said Tony.

Steve looked at him studiously. “What happened to her?”

“Arno hired an assassin to kill her.” Steve looked at him. They both thought the same thing. “I don’t know if _she_ was the killer, Steve. I don’t want to think about that. I can’t think about that. Maya was murdered only a few weeks ago. It fits the timeline. Once she was no longer needed, Arno could…dispose of her.” He clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath and sat back, letting his head fall on the pillow, and turned to face Steve. “This is my fault, really. If I had had things under control, if I was the one still running the business, I wouldn’t have let this leave the premises.”

Steve softly stroked Tony's thigh. “Maya worked for you,” said Steve. Tony nodded. “She was also… I may have… We might have had… There was something between us,” he finished, lamely. Steve shoulders tensed but only for a moment, before he relaxed. “It’s not like we’re actually married, Tony,” said Steve, dismissively.

It was supposed to be comforting but Tony felt his lungs constrict and tried to control his breathing so Steve wouldn’t notice.

This has always been a business deal. _God, how could I be so stupid? Why would I think…why would I delude myself into thinking this was real?_

 _Because it_ felt _real._

_Yes, but so did the thing with Natasha… Look at how well that turned out._

He tried to drown out his thoughts. It wasn’t working. _Not now, Stark. Don’t think about Natasha_. He blinked twice. All he could see was the blood on her hands and the crooked smile she flashed him as she cleaned her blade.

It was etched in his mind.

He repressed the urge to get up and wash his hands, cleansing himself of the image, but he knew that would never happened. He would never be able to forget that moment, the moment everything started falling apart.

After a few moments, he spoke. “Of course. I know.”

The pain was still there. He craved another glass for the burn in his throat and the dreamless night. He wanted to feel anything but pain. Steve didn’t have to know, couldn’t know. _We haven’t seen each other in a few days; surely, he would want to_ , thought Tony. It was a welcome distraction and he desperately needed one.

Steve had been waiting patiently for Tony to continue, slowly rubbing small circles on his knee. After a few moments, he asked, “What does the virus do? Why is it so dangerous and why does the Chinese government want it so badly?”

“Extremis enhances human strength, speed, and endurance. It gives you the ability to breathe fire. With it, you can also project electricity. It also vastly improves your reflexes.” Tony turned to face him and intuitively, Steve responded, “An army like that would be impressive and definitely give everyone else a run for their money. Why kill Maya? If she’s the brains of the operation, wouldn’t he need her to make sure the virus is doing what it’s supposed to do, and not something else?”

Tony stood up, walked over the counter, poured himself another scotch, watched the ice float to the top, and then made his way back to the sofa. He couldn’t resist the temptation. _Just one more_.

“Ah, but that’s where I come in, darling. Why have Maya there at all when I’ve been with her every step of the way?” He smiled. It was so full of guilt and self-loathing that Steve had to turn away. _I shouldn’t have asked about Maya_ , thought Steve.

They sat in a tense, uneasy silence while Tony took sips from his glass. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, thought better of it, and dropped them to his sides. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and exhaled.

He stood up and reached for Tony, pulling him to his feet, taking the glass from his hands and placing it on the coffee table.

He cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. It was slow, a bit hesitant. “You worry too fucking much.”

Tony chuckled as Steve ran his hands through his hair. “Easy for you to say: you have everything under control.”

“Exactly,” responded Steve, dragging Tony into the bedroom and shutting the door. “Forget about them.”

Tony kept thinking to himself, _no, this is bad. This is only going to get worse. Don’t give into him, Stark_. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He wanted this. He didn’t care that Steve didn’t feel the same way he felt about him. It didn’t matter, not in this moment, not in the next.

Steve pushed him against the wall and kissed him, this time with an intensity that took Tony by surprise. Steve could still taste the alcohol on his lips but it didn’t matter. He lifted one leg and Tony took the hint, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck.

Steve started removing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt. He bit down on Tony’s shoulder as his hands roamed his body. _I missed you_ , thought Steve, as a groan escaped Tony’s lips. He could feel his hands stroking his hair, could hear his breathing, uneven.

He didn’t say it. He couldn’t say it, not when he had told Tony this wasn’t real. Real was dangerous and messy. Real would only hurt them. _It was better this way_ , thought Steve even though he didn’t feel that way, not with Tony pulling him in, licking his lips, and kissing him.

At some point, they moved to the bed, lying naked in a pool of sheets. Tony leaned over Steve, his hair falling to his eyes, bright and luminous in the darkness. Steve looked up and their eyes met. In that moment, Steve knew, without a doubt, that he’d scour the world to search for him, that if he died, something within him would too.

 _Well, things just got complicated_.

He didn’t voice his feelings.

He pulled him down and pressed a kiss to his neck. He whispered into his ear, “What do you want?” Tony tilted his head and for a moment, their foreheads touched. He murmured, “You.”

“Good.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his waist and flipped him over. Tony pulled him down and kissed him, taking his time to explore his mouth. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Fuck me.”

“That was the plan,” responded Steve, his voice shaky. He stood up and walked over to the night table; he turned and couldn’t help but smile. _He’s so beautiful_ , he thought. Tony was lying with his hands tucked under his head, his feet crossed. His tousled hair falling to eyes, his lashes resting on his cheeks. Steve could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Tony rolled over and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him back down. He pressed their foreheads together and caressed his cheeks “Steve, you’re taking too long.”

“Tony, please,” said Steve, moving his hand and sitting up again. Tony stared at him, bemused. His eyes, brilliant, and startlingly blue, twinkled in the soft light filtering in through the curtains. “Oh, I should do this more often. Begging suits you, darling.” Steve turned to look at Tony, lying on his side, his hair obscuring his eyes, his hand resting on his hip.  _God, he’s so beautiful_.

“Ready when you are.”

Tony turned to lie flat on his back as Steve leaned over him. He started kissing his chest and took him in his hands. Tony gasped. “Oh, I was not expecting this…carry on,” he said, delighted. Steve licked the tip and before putting him in his mouth said, hoarsely, “I enjoy watching you fall apart.” Tony smiled and, as Steve licked him from the shaft to the head, ran his fingers through his hair. “Darling, for you, anything.”

While his mouth worked on him, his fingers slowly opened him up. The bottle he had retrieved from the drawer was mostly full. _Good, I’ll need it_. He applied an ample amount to his palm, warming it in his hands, before gently teasing the ring of muscle. He could feel Tony shuddering all around him and he suppressed a small smile.

He used one finger at a time. He could feel his body relaxing around him until, at last, he had three fingers working him open. At the same time, he could feel Tony’s body tensing around his lips, ready for release.

“No, I can’t have you coming so soon,” responded Steve as he licked the dripping tip.

“Oh, God, _why_?"

“Because,” said Steve, pouring more of the bottle’s contents into his palm, stroking himself. His breathing coming in short, uneven gasps. “Because you asked me to fuck you and that’s what I’m going to do,” he said, quietly. He leaned over him, placing his hands on his hips to steady himself. He could feel his body tensing. Tony, below him, was shuddering.

“ _Please_ , Steve.”

He was slow at first but quickly found a rhythm. He thrust in, bottoming out, and pulled out until only the tip was still inside. Tony whimpered, “Steve, _please_ …”

Steve responded, his face flushed, “As you wish.” He steadied himself with one hand on Tony's hips. He was sure there'd be a mark in the morning from where his fingers dug into the soft skin but he was certain Tony wouldn't care. With his free hand, he stroked Tony, slowly at first, but he quickly matched the speed of his thrusts. He knew Tony was close. He could tell by the way his body arched, the way his breaths came, and the way his body tightened around him. He was both consumed by and consuming Tony. He felt magnificent: warm and inviting.

Steve knew this was risky; knew this sensation, this feeling would engulf him, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't leave. He wanted this moment to last forever.

He was in love. He could no longer deny it, not that he ever could.

They both came at the same time. Steve licked his hand and Tony pulled him in for a kiss; he couldn't care less if he could still taste himself on Steve's lips. Then he asked the question Steve had been dreading, the question they both knew was coming, the one they couldn't ignore anymore.

“Is this real, Steve?”

Steve, who leaning over Tony as he grew soft inside him, knew the answer but he couldn't bring himself to say it, especially not to Tony, not like this. He kissed Tony gently, their foreheads touching. Tony could feel his body temperature drop, could feel himself coming down from this high. He didn't say anything, he couldn't.

He felt used.

Steve lay next to him, his hands lying flat on his hips, his face turned to Tony. “Tony, I…”

“Steve, I'm going to stop you right there before you say anything incriminating. Just…go. I can't be around you right now.”

Steve stood and turned his head to look at Tony, who had turned away and was lying on his side. Steve could tell his breaths were uneven but he didn't say anything. He couldn't. _So much for not hurting him, Rogers. Good job. You're the world’s greatest asshole. The man you love just asked you if you loved him and you shot him down. Bucky would punch you in the jaw if he knew._

Steve got dressed and left without saying a word. Tony tried to fall asleep but couldn't. He got up, but on a bathrobe but didn't bother to close it, and grabbed the bottle of scotch, from which he had been drinking earlier. He took one sip and stopped himself. He closed the bottle and threw it against the wall. The sound reverberated across the room. He sat against the sofa, where only hours ago they had sat talking, and cried himself to sleep, as the amber liquid dripped down the wall.

He woke up hours later, the cold finally getting to him, just as the sun was rising.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason this chapter is short. Bear with me.

Sam stood in the doorway. “Cap, there’s a gift for you.” His voice cracked at the end.

“Does it say who it’s from?” Sam shook his head. Steve knew without having to wait for Sam’s answer that there would be no return label. The sender would want Steve to open it immediately.

 _Fuck these mind games I just want Tony back_.

Steve vacillated. He was standing, overlooking the Hudson. He thought of Tony, standing at his side, leaning on his shoulder, his hand on the small of his back, talking about architecture.

He missed his voice, his touch.

 _It ends here_.

“Just give me the box. Go get Buck and Peg.” 

Steve took the box from Sam’s hand and sat at his desk. The glittering gold bow and shimmering red wrapping should’ve given it away. As soon as Bucky and Peggy entered, looking solemn, Steve motioned for them to sit on the couch next to Sam, whose expression wavered between somber and grim. Tony had been missing for three days and the trio knew Steve’s composure wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this. I’ll open it,” said Peggy. She spoke softly, gently, as if to a caged animal. They were all walking on eggshells around Steve but it was only a matter of time.

“Thank you, Peg, but - but I have to…”

Steve began pulling on the bow. The intricate wrapping disassembled before him leaving in its wake a simple velvet box. His fingers trembled ever so slightly. He lifted the cover…

He froze.

He couldn’t think.

_No!_

_No, they wouldn’t._

_They couldn’t._

_Not like this_.

He was shaking. The box fell from his hands. Bucky, moving at the speed of sound, caught it between his metal fingers. Peggy and Sam stood on Steve’s side gripping his shoulder. He couldn’t suppress the tears that began falling down. He was overcome with emotion.

The only thing he still held onto was a simple white card that read, “You only have nine more days.”

Bucky, Sam, and Peggy turned to look at each other. Peggy took a deep breath and lifted the cover. She yelped, “Oh, Steve!”

Inside, on a bed of blue velvet the exact same shade of Tony’s eyes, was a finger and on that finger was a simple platinum band Steve would recognize anywhere.

It took all the strength he had but he mustered the courage to say, “Out.”

Peggy was the last to leave; she softly shut the door behind her as Steve collapsed in his seat and kicked the desk, which flew across the room, falling apart on impact. She ran as fast as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she could still hear his screams as he broke the glass and cried. His sobs echoing in the silent chamber.


	5. Chapter 5

Three Days Ago:

 

“Here’s the plan: flirt with Peter. I don’t care if you have to drape yourself on him, just make it believable,” said Carol as she adjusted Tony’s bow-tie, and turned to eye Steve, who was shuffling anxiously.

“I don’t like this plan,” said Steve, responding to her unspoken remark, the frown lines on his forehead evident as he unconsciously played with the platinum band on his ring finger and deliberately avoided Tony’s watchful eye. The latter had his hands in his pockets, the weight of the ring’s twin on his own suddenly feeling heavy.

“Well, neither do I, Steve, but it’s the best plan we have,” responded Tony even though the comment wasn’t directed at him. Steve looked at him, his face a mosaic of emotions, none of which he could pinpoint.

Tony couldn’t help but think _he looks delectable in that tuxedo_.

Carol turned to look at Tony once again, “Go… Peggy has the tracker and the microphone. Be sure to record everything,” she winked at him and his gaze softened. “You dirty girl. Remind me again, why are we friends?” She punched him in the shoulder. “Because you look incredible in suits.”

“Only because I befriend beautiful women,” responded Tony taking Carol’s hand off his bow-tie and twirling her in place. Her long navy gown moved with her, the shimmery fabric glistening in the low light. In one fell swoop, he dipped her back, her long blonde hair nearly touching the floor. He leaned over to place a soft kiss on her forehead. After regaining her balance she whispered, “I only let you do that because I like you.”

“Oh, I know darling. You terrify me,” replied Tony grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Enough,” said Steve as he glared at Carol. She shrugged, as Tony moved silently toward the bed, put on his jacket, buttoning only the top button, and stormed out of the room. Both Carol and Steve watched him retreat. Steve groaned and Carol shot him a look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Steve, miserably.

“Well, if you weren’t such a fucking ass I wouldn’t have to… I don’t know what you said to him, but you better fix this, Rogers, or I swear –”

“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. Head on a silver platter. At this point, I’m compelled to beat you to it,” retorted Steve, anger and something much more sinister, something akin to despair, lurking just beneath the surface. He picked up his jacket and stormed out, buttoning it as he walked, leaving Carol alone in their bedroom, wondering if it was wise to send them into this at all or if Tony’s paranoia was getting a hold of her.

Steve took a deep breath before he strode into the living room where Rhodey, who was already dressed, went over plans with Tony. He couldn’t help but admire Tony. _He looks ravishing. If only_ , thought Steve, lugubriously.

At the far end of the room were Sam, Bucky, and Peggy. The two men sat on the chaise lounge, diligently typing away on their laptops. Peggy sat cross-legged around the coffee table, combing through stacks of papers, among them blueprints. Her dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun.

Peggy looked up just in time to see Steve and Carol, who had followed him out of the bedroom, walk into the room. Carol patted him on the shoulder. “Listen, Cap, I know it’s difficult for you to fight the urge to beat the shit out of people and trust me when I say I admire that, but that’s not what we need right now.” In response, he sighed, uncertain as he stared at the ring on his finger.

Peggy rose and walked over to them, huddled in the corner. “You look rather dashing, _Captain_.” A faint blush crept up Steve’s cheeks. Peggy smiled softly as she smoothed his collar. Sensing the palpable tension between them, she turned to Carol but spoke to Steve. “Trust that your husband can handle himself and that you’ll step in if it gets out of hand. You’ve never been one to doubt yourself. Don’t start now. It’s not a good look on you.”

Carol crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke. “Tony’s going to be in danger. We all are. However, I will personally hold you accountable if anything happens to him, Rogers. He’s the best-damned thing that’s ever happened to you. He doesn’t think that, but – don’t let him hear me say this – sometimes he’s wrong.”

 

Tony and Steve stood in the middle of the living room as Carol and Peggy adjusted their suits one last time to hide their microphones and trackers.

Sam stood up from his seat next to Bucky on the chaise lounge and walked over to the quartet. “Alright, here’s the plan. The cruise is five hours – that’s your time-frame – so you’ll have act fast,” he paused to look at Tony, who smirked in response. “I’m not necessarily known for being quick,” retorted Tony.

Bucky and Rhodey both suppressed their laughs; Peggy punched him in the arm and raised her brow threateningly. Steve, stoic as ever, didn’t comment though the blush from before returned. Carol rolled her eyes. “Could we get back to business?”

“As I was saying –” continued Sam, seemingly unperturbed by the interruption but wishing to proceed. “Pretend there’s trouble in paradise –”

Tony and Steve exchanged glances both thinking the same thing.

 

_“I can’t keep doing this, Steve. I can’t be with you like this. I thought I could but… I just can’t,” said Tony, hopelessly, as he rolled the sleeves of his sweater. After which, he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them busy as he paced up and down Steve’s office._

_Spring had come and the unspoken words from that night in February still hung between them. They hadn’t discussed what had happened that night with anyone, let alone, each other, and Tony couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending this wasn’t killing him._

_Steve walked over to him, taking his hand in his as he titled his face so that their eyes meet. “Steve, I – I can’t,” said Tony, desperately, as the tears started falling, slowly. He turned to walk away but Steve held him in place._

_“Tony, I – I have something for you,” said Steve, his voice gruff, as he walked toward his desk and opened the second drawer. He pulled something out and held it behind his back. Tony stood nervously at the foot of the desk, waiting for Steve to speak._

_Steve cleared his throat. “I should’ve – I’ve been –” The words failed him. He dropped to his knee and pulled the black velvet box from behind him, opening it to reveal a soft bed of sapphire silk. “I had them made before I asked you. I – I never got the chance…”_

_“Steve…”_

_Steve looked up and met his eyes. “Tony, I love you.”_

_Tony stopped, unable to move. The world around him came crashing down. He couldn’t handle this. This can’t be real._

_“Steve, I –”_

_Steve stood up and reached for his hand, “Please, don’t go.”_

_“I should’ve left a long time ago but I didn’t and I won’t leave now.” He took a deep, steadying breathe before he spoke. “I love you, too.”_

_Steve slid the ruby-encrusted platinum ring onto his finger and held it up to his lips. “Do you forgive me?”_

_“Yes,” whispered Tony as he leaned in to kiss Steve, wrapping his hands around his neck, their foreheads touching, briefly._

_“For everything?”_

_“For everything.”_

 

Their search for Arno, Natasha, and Peter took up much of the next few weeks. The two teams worked together and drafted a plan, which consumed much of their free time. If any of their friends noticed the bands of silver on their ring fingers, they kept their comments to themselves.

They thought there’d be more time.

Later, after all was said and done.

 

Steve was standing on the deck overlooking the New York skyline, the cool air refreshing his overheated skin. He had never enjoyed parties and this was no exception. He had come out to escape the noise and the crowd but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone stumbled into him.

“So, when’re you going to take that stick out of your ass, Cap?”

Tony had swung the door open, drink in hand. Steve turned to face him, groaned, and looked away. “Tony, don’t – don’t start. You’re drunk.” He looked at him in disgust.

“I’m playing a part, Steve,” responded Tony, slurring his words. He held up his drink. “It’s all part of the act.”

“Is it really,” snapped Steve.

Tony took its contents and dumped it into the East River. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“If you got your head out of your –”

Steve grabbed him by the collar, “I swear to God, Stark, don’t fucking push me.”

“Get your hands off me,” said Tony simmering with anger. Steve did as he was told, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You agreed to this plan. Don’t back out now,” said Tony as he turned and made his way back inside, the raucous laughter and music echoing in the distance. Steve cradled his head in his hands. _Dammit, Rogers. If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself._

 

Awhile later, just as Steve was making his way back inside, he felt a gentle hand wrap around his neck. Seconds later, he felt a blade against his throat. He knew who it was even before she spoke. She was one of the few people who could catch him off-guard.

“It’s been awhile, _Captain_.”

“Natasha… I hear you go by Widow now. That’s funny. You’re not a widow.”

“Oh, but _we_ should’ve been,” whispered the redhead into his ear. Steve felt his blood boil.

“What do you mean ‘ _we_ ’,” asked Steve not bothering to keep the anger out of his voice, which came out gravelly.

“You see, I was looking for my beloved Antonio, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I was hoping you knew where he was,” responded Natasha. He spun around, taking the knife out of her hand, and pointing it at her throat.

“What do you mean you couldn’t find him anywhere? Natasha, don’t fuck with me,” said Steve bile quickly rising. _She’s lying to you. Don’t let her get to you._

She laughed, “Only a spider can weave a web and not get caught.”

Just then, Carol came running down stairs, “Steve! Steve!” She paused when she caught sight of Natasha. “What’s that bitch doing here?” She practically growled.

Natasha, for her part, smiled, flicking her hair back so that it obscured the intricate web-like lace running down her back.

Carol pulled a pistol from her thigh holster and pointed it at Natasha. “Bitch, you better start talking. Where’d they take Tony?”

Steve, who was still holding Natasha at knife-point, turned to face Carol. “Carol, what the fuck is going on?”

She pointed her pistol at Steve. “Tony’s gone and I’m going to kill you like I promised. This whole thing was a trap, Steve, and we fell right into their hands.” The tears started falling down her cheeks. Behind him, Natasha started laughing.

He turned and glared at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You should’ve let me kill him.” She pulled the knife from his hand and threw it, lodging itself in Carol’s shoulder. Steve quickly turned to face Natasha, who had started running up the stairs, kicking her stilettos off in the process, and he ran toward Carol. He knelt over her and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, now go get that bitch before I kill you both,” screamed Carol.

Just then, Rhodey came running out. “Go! Go after her!” He ran towards Carol, helping her to her feet as he pulled the blade out of her shoulder. She bit her lip to muffle the screams.

Steve ran up the stairs, after Natasha, who was waiting for him on the second floor landing. He launched himself at her. He knew he was at a disadvantage: she was armed.

“Isn’t he so beautiful when he’s falling apart?”

_She’s taunting you, Rogers. Don’t let her get to you._

“Why didn’t you let me kill him? Does he know I worked for you?”

She kept landing blow after blow as she dodged his kicks and punches. He was unfocused and she was using it to her advantage.

“You should’ve seen his face –”

He punched her in the jaw, a first. She fell to her knees, blood pouring out of her mouth. She spit it out, rising to her feet. “You’re too late.”

She had pulled a pistol from her thigh holster while she was on the ground and he wasn’t looking. She released the safety and pulled the trigger.

He felt the blood on his fingers as he touched his head. He heard screams in distance before everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a cruise like this, around Manhattan, on more than one occasion. Needless to say, my experiences weren't this dramatic.


	6. Chapter 6

He opened one eye and scanned the area. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light filtering in through the parted curtains. He was back in the apartment. _Well, shit_. He moved to touch his head, which was still throbbing, and felt a bandage. _Someone must’ve cleaned it._

He heard murmuring coming from the hallway. His muscles tensed. The altercation on the yacht with Natasha had only increased his desire to fight. He started strategizing. They would need to get in contact with her. She would know who had taken Tony and to where.

Suddenly, the door opened, pulling him from his thoughts, and allowing light to filter in. Then, someone spoke, sounding worried. “Cap, you up?”

Steve quickly sat up at the mention of his name. He immediately regretted the decision, which only contributed to the pounding in his head. He looked up at Sam, who was offering him a weak smile, partially obscured by the darkness.

“Yeah, I’m up,” said Steve. He was unaccustomed to the sound of his gravelly voice. He could hardly deny his exhaustion. _For how long have I been asleep?_

“Good. Next time, do us all a favor and just slash her throat,” said Bucky, not bothering to keep his voice low as had Sam. He walked into the room, trailing behind Sam. They both sat on the edge of the bed and faced Steve.

Steve cleared his throat. “Where’s –”

“Peggy and Rhodey are with Carol in the next room. My advice: stay out of her way for the time being,” responded Sam eyeing Steve, who was still wearing his tattered tuxedo, sympathetically. Bucky cleared his throat drawing Steve’s attention. “Yeah, that spider sure knows how to aim. She hit her just below the clavicle. Must’ve hurt like hell. As Peg would say –”

“While I’m sure you’d probably come up with some colorful expression I wouldn’t actually use, you’ll have to excuse us. I need to talk to Steve,” retorted Peggy from the doorway. The two men rose and quietly walked out of the room. She took their place on the edge of the bed.

“Steve…”

“Cut the crap, Peg. I’m fine. Now, where the _fuck_ is Tony?”

“That’s just the thing, Steve. We don’t know. They disabled his tracker,” responded Peggy, cautiously, as Steve cursed under his breath. She put her hand on his thigh. The weight of her palm, comforting. “We’ll get him back, don’t worry. But now, you need to sleep.”

He wanted to argue with her; he couldn’t rest, not while Tony was out there, at the mercy of his kidnappers. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. Ultimately, he knew she was right despite how much it pained him to admit it, even to himself. He was of no use like this.

Groaning, he nodded.

Having uttered only a handful of words, Peggy had convinced Steve waiting was their better option. She knew Steve – the talented tactician – would have to agree. Propping herself on the bed, she leaned over him, kissing his forehead, and adjusting his pillow. She whispered in his ear, “Go to bed. Captain’s orders.”

He caught her smirk as she turned to walk out of the room, shutting the door behind her. His last thought before dozing off was, _dammit Peggy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a few days before I get to post another chapter but I promise the next one will be much longer.
> 
> Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter serves as both a refresher and exposition.
> 
> I hope the timeline makes sense and isn't confusing.

Hours Earlier:

 

Tony leaned on the bar as he spoke. “A glass of your finest whiskey.” The bartender nodded and reached for a bottle sitting high atop the shelf. Tony flashed him a grin and took a seat, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat.

“Antonio, I have heard so much about you. You see, my boss speaks very highly of you.”

He quickly turned to look at the stranger who had joined him, enticed by her voice, smooth as silk. “I regret to say, I don’t think we’ve met, darling. Perhaps, you’d like to change that.”

In the back of his mind, he was counting down the minutes until they’d have to disembark and by then, it would be too late. He would have lost his chance to get closer, gleam some kind of hidden truth. Obviously, it was in Peter’s best interests if Tony and Arno squabbled over their vast fortunes in the wake of their parents’ premature death, that much was clear. He’d be able to gain new territory while the brothers fought among themselves.

 _Steve_ …

Steve had inadvertently _complicated_ things for them both. By choosing sides, which he indubitably did when he announced – first to Bucky and later, to Tony, weeks ago, on that frosty December night – that his intention was to marry him, he had opened himself up to assault.

At first, Tony thought it was just a political maneuver. He couldn’t believe – couldn’t let himself believe – that Steve’s feelings for him were genuine. Although, a small, but vocal, part of him had always known that to be the case. They had been dancing around each for a long time, even before Natasha had come into his life. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. _At least, not all of it_ , thought Tony, fondly remembering that night at the MET gala.

He had seen something in him then.

Then, that night in February had happened. He could readily admit to himself, now anyway, that he had crossed a line. _Boundaries, Stark. They’re important._ He shouldn’t have pressed Steve for an answer, especially not in that moment. It had been imprudent and frankly, selfish but he had needed to know. Above all, he had needed to hear it from Steve, needed the validation that came from hearing him say, _this is real for me too, Tony._

It didn’t come.

The rejection was so sudden.

The fault line was active once again. The pain he had felt then: sharp and jarring was akin to having the ground pulled from underneath him. He remembered lying there, trying to control his breathing, willing himself to keep it together. Even Natasha’s deception and eventual betrayal hadn’t hit him so quickly. He had seen that tidal wave coming in the distance but had been unable to stop it or run away.

_Well, there’s no running away now._

Tony, unconsciously, twisted the platinum band on his finger. _I should’ve taken it off._

He had spent days deliberating, arguing with himself, and an increasingly frustrated Rhodey, who convinced him to confront Steve. Yet again, Steve had surprised him. Suddenly, their fake marriage wasn’t so fake anymore.

 _Husband. Shit._ Thought Tony, gloomily.

His thoughts immediately drifted to Steve as he scanned the room looking for him. Tony had a sudden urge to go find him and drag him away from here. Tony, who had chided him on the ride over for having second thoughts about their mission and here he was, an endless supply of whiskey at his disposal, and staring at an intoxicating woman wishing to be with his husband and as far from these people and their complicated lives as possible

_Now’s not the time for this shit, Stark. Stick to the program._

In their weeks of planning and strategizing, they had theorized that Peter wouldn’t come, choosing instead to send someone in his place. Thus, over the last few weeks, they had been tasked with learning as much as they could about the Guardians. One in particular caught Tony’s eye: Peter’s right-hand woman. From what little they could find on her, it was clear that she was a deadly assassin. One that could possibly rival Natasha.

 _Just my luck_ , thought Tony as he took a swig from his glass and turned, still in his seat, to face the woman before him.

Like the mamba, she moved with skill, carefully analyzing, waiting for the perfect moment, in which she would strike. Her laughter was infectious.

“Careful,” she responded, placing her palm on his thigh. “Care to join me?” A new song had just started playing. Tony nodded and took off his jacket, letting her guide him to the dancefloor. Her long green hair danced around her waist as she moved, ever so gracefully, to the music. Her long nails splayed on his back. She held him in place and moved closer, whispering in his ear, “Tell me, Tony. What’s it like to taste happiness and then have it ripped away from you?”

He felt his temperature drop and quickly scanned the hall. He caught Steve’s watchful stare from across the room. _Steve’s here. It’ll be okay. She’s just trying to fuck with my head._ He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Darling, what are you talking about?” He responded, trying to veer the conversation off course.

What happened next shocked him and he knew he’d have to face to Steve’s wrath. She moved her hand from his back to his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Reacting instinctively and choosing not to cause a scene, he dipped her, her long, wavy hair practically touching the floor. Her hair obscured his movements, as he pulled away. “That was out of line," he said, his voice tinged with anger. He wouldn’t let her make a fool of him, at least, not here, not with all these people watching.

The crowd around them, none the wiser to what had just occurred, cheered and jeered. He tried to scan the room for Steve but there was no need. He heard the door to the deck open as the night air rushed in. Without looking, he knew Steve had stormed off into the night.

 _Dammit_.

He had played right into her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters haven't been as long as the first few but those covered more time than do these, so please, bear with me. 
> 
> Enjoy! As always, comments and kudos are more than welcome. :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high as the team searches for Tony.

She held her umbrella close to her head; the rain, splattering on the pavement, followed her every footstep. Puddles littered the cement, painting it in monochromatic shades. Angry pedestrians moved swiftly, wishing to reach their destinations quickly. She kept her eyes peeled, watching, waiting, eagerly anticipating footsteps that never came. She reached an abandoned warehouse by the South Street Seaport.

She quickly typed her passcode into the keypad next to an unassuming metal door and heard it swoosh as it opened. She closed her umbrella, the water droplets trickling and puddling around the door.

“Any news?” Sam stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

Peggy lowered her hood and smiled weakly. “Yes.”

“So then, where is he? Have you told Steve?” He asked her as they walked toward the back room where the others were congregated.

“Wait… Steve’s not here?”

“No, we thought he was with you,” responded Sam. She cursed under her breath. “Is Carol here?”

“Yes, she and Rhodey got here not too long ago. Bucky’s with them. We thought you and Steve had gone out for some reconnaissance.”

“Well, I did but I went alone,” replied Peggy, unable to hide her displeasure. Sam visibly stiffened. He turned to face Peggy. “Where do you think he went?”

Peggy shrugged. “Well, knowing Steve. He’s probably doing something reckless. Has anyone tried to contact him?”

Just as they reached the door, behind which, their friends were waiting, they heard wet, slobbering footsteps. Both turned around at the same time. Peggy gasped and Sam rushed over to peel the jacket from his shoulders. “Jesus… Steve, where the fuck have you been?”

He threw his head back, water dripping down his back. He faced Peggy as he spoke. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yes. Steve… Can we really trust her?” Sam turned to eye her quizzically. “I’m pretty sure I know who you’re talking about and you just vouched for her.”

“Yes, well… I want to know if Steve trusts her,” retorted Peggy. They awaited his response. Steve took a deep breath and removed his t-shirt, which was soaking wet.

“I know this is serious but dude, why are you wet?”

Steve smiled, briefly. “Sam, it’s pouring.”

“Yes, well, Steve dear, most adults carry umbrellas in the rain –”

“Fuck the rain. Listen, we don’t have the luxury of trusting her but rest assured, if she’s lying, that’s the last web she’ll ever weave. I’m done playing games.”

Steve wrung his shirt. He looked up at Peggy unapologetically. “Sorry… I followed you –”

“You did WHAT? Do you not trust me, Steve, or were you too much of a coward, were you unable to control yourself, are you still so consumed with whatever selfish emotion you’re feeling, that you had to resort to waiting on the sidelines? May I remind you whose husband is the one suffering because of your –”

Peggy had closed the space between them. The tension was palpable. Sam tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She quickly turned her head as he spoke. “Peg… There’s no need for –”

“Sam, I appreciate what you’re doing but no, Steve needs to hear this.” She and Steve locked eyes, both of them, dripping on the floor.

“Dammit, Peg. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s her.”

“No, Steve. You have this indescribable need to control everything around you. What you’ve failed to realize – what I had hoped you’d gleam – is that Tony has and will do anything for you but would you? Would you listen to Natasha if it meant finding him sooner rather than later? Would you put your pride aside and trust my instincts?”

Peggy let her words hang as she walked into the back room. Sam stayed and watched a flurry of emotions skirt across Steve’s face before he, too, joined Peggy.

 

On the other side, Bucky stood listless. “Peg, what the fuck?”

“Don’t bloody start. Do I trust Natasha? NO! But I’ll be damned if I let Tony die because of my bloody pride!”

Carol stood, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Where the fuck is Tony being kept and why are we standing here arguing when we could be rescuing him?” She turned to face Rhodey, who nodded in agreement. “I’m going to rescue my friend. If the rest of you want to come, you’re more than welcome, but seeing as you’re all too busy squabbling, I’ll do it myself.”

“There’s no need for that Carol. We’re leaving now,” replied Steve, having walked into the room. All heads turned to face him.

“Well, it’s about fucking time you showed up,” quipped Rhodey.

 

"What did Natasha say?" Bucky whispered, as he and Steve stood, hidden in the shadows behind a shipping crate, out of sight and away from any prying eyes. “That he’d be here. Now, stop asking questions and shoot the camera.”

Bucky aimed and fired a shot. “You know snipers are usually perched on rooftops for a reason.”

“Yeah… Yeah… Let’s go!” He motioned for Peggy and Sam, who were hidden behind the adjacent container, to follow suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Carol’s blonde hair.

_It’s all proceeding as planned._

Carol and Rhodey would march in first; their job was to incapacitate the guards. Steve and Bucky would follow, closely behind, and serve as their guides as they moved through the warehouse in search of Tony. Peggy and Sam were going to retrieve whatever they could. Tony was their priority but they were still on the hunt for the missing shipment, which included the Extremis virus.

Once Bucky shot the light, they’d no longer be able to hide. They needed to get rid of the camera but they had to move quickly, their only defense – stealth – gone at the speed of sound. Furthermore, a shot like that from that distance would surely raise suspicion. _We should’ve thought this through._

“Have you stopped to think, why would Natasha tell you all of this? What does she have to gain?” Bucky shot Steve a quick glance as they ran across the foreground under the soft moonlight. With the large, metal crates behind them, they were out and in the open, exposed, vulnerable to assault. “Bucky, you pick the best times for a conversation,” said Steve, sardonically.

Bucky shrugged as best as he could as he moved swiftly. “I’d just like to know if this is a suicide mission or not.”

Steve ignored him but he had been asking himself the same question since he overheard Peggy and Natasha talking in hushed voices in Battery Park. The rain and wind pounding into him. He was obscured by the sea wall. His thoughts were never far from Tony. The package he had received had had the desire effect. He was walking on eggshells. His world crumbling around him.

As he ran into the warehouse after Carol, Rhodey, and Bucky, he heard Peggy’s words playing in a loop in his mind. “ _Tony has and will do anything for you but would you?”_

 _Tony would trust Natasha. Yes, but what good did that do? Well,_ if _you find him alive, a lot._ If…

_How many days has it been?_

_When did you last sleep?_

Carol’s words taunted him as they found the canisters for which they were looking. “ _This whole thing was a trap, Steve, and we fell right into their hands.”_

Rhodey spoke up first as he glanced around at the carnage in front of him. Half a dozen guards bleeding all around them. A few, attempting to make tourniquets for their numerous bullet wounds. Steve tried to drown out the sounds of men groaning in pain but he couldn’t.

Natasha’s words haunted him. _“Isn’t he so beautiful when he’s falling apart?”_ He pictured Tony, on his knees, crying into his hands. His mind conjured up images of him, lying on his side, breathing laboriously, the bed sheets draped haphazardly as he turned to walk away.

 _“Would you?”_ Peggy’s words came floating back to the surface.

_Rogers, focus._

He thought of Tony. How he moved when he was on top of him, his skin flushed, his body glistening with sweat, his head thrown back in pleasure. He thought of him lying on his chest. How he’d tilt his head up just a bit so he could stare at those clear, azure eyes. He thought of the feel of him close to him, the steady beat of his heart.

_“For everything?”_

_“For everything.”_

_Please…please let him be alive._

Rhodey’s words pulled him out of his reverie. “This was too easy.” Just then, Sam ran into the room. “STEVE! PEGGY FOUND HIM! COME QUICKLY!” They all exchanged glances and followed behind the two men, as Steve ran out, catching up to Sam in no time.

“How is –”

It was then they heard an explosion. The walls started crumbling around them. There was debris flying everywhere and Steve couldn’t help but think the worst.

_“Do you forgive me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end! Bear with me.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are more than welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags.
> 
> Sorry this took so long to write but I finally felt inspired.

Steve keeps running. The walls are caving in; he hears someone's voice – Sam, maybe Peggy's – beckoning him, but he ignores them. He keeps running. They've poured over blueprints; the color of the ink reminds him of Tony.

Steve thinks of Tony, lying on his back, his hands tucked under his head. He's dozing off but Steve wants a little more time with him. He has to get going; he can't spend the night, but he needs this. He needs to feel close to him. He longs to touch him every second he's away. He's knows it's selfish, that Tony's tired. A night of passionate sex has worn him out. It brings a mischievous smile to Steve's lips before he lowers them to Tony’s lips. His eyes pop open: warm, inviting, intoxicating, the purest blue he's ever seen looking up at him adoringly, as if he were the sun, as if he truly loved him. He parts his lips and Steve devours him for the second time that night, his hands roaming down Tony's torso, admiringly.

His breath hitches.  _You're a goddamn mess, Rogers._

He hasn't seen those blues eyes in far too long.

He keeps running. The warehouse stretches on for miles. He feels overwhelmed: a little fish in a big pond.  _Tony, please... Please be alive._

_Forgive me, please._

_I'm so sorry._

He thinks he hears him. He stops, shielding himself from the falling debris, before he keeps moving. He comes before a steel door. It doesn't take much effort to push it open. The whole warehouse is falling apart.

Without Tony, he feels like he's falling apart.  _Rogers, when are you going to learn? When has caring ever helped._  He scowls. No one can see him. He keeps running, shooting anyone that gets in his way, keeping track of his bullets, saving a few, just in case.

He musters up the courage.  _C'mon, Rogers, get your man._

He opens the last door.

He's not prepared -- never would've been -- for what he sees. Tony, hanging from a low-lying bar. His wrists, chained above his head, are bruised. The metal boring into Tony's open, wounded skin.  _Why would you try to fight this?_

He's completely naked. His skin, slick with sweat from shock. There's blood everywhere. It's oozing down his temples, his arms, his legs, and his back. It's coagulated just below his ear. The blindfold serves two purposes: to destabilize him and to shield his eye from the blood trickling down.

It's an effective technique, one Steve's employed dozens of times. _It had been different_ , he rationalizes, but he knows it's not true. This could've been his handiwork.  _It was, Rogers. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for you._

The guilt gnaws at him.

He stands before him. He resists the urge to touch him. After all, he doesn't know what they've done to him. He can see the deep, purple bruises on the side of his face. He remembers Tony's stubble and the soft, smooth skin just below. He holds back tears but there's no one to see him cry.

He begins undoing the chains, careful to make sure Tony doesn't fall. He ghosts his palm over his neck. He feels a pulse: faint but steady. He wraps his arm around his waist. He's cold and clammy; it's so unlike him.

Steve can feel the lines on his back: bloody and raw. Tony doesn't flinch when Steve touches one of them.

It's not a good sign.

In his mind, Steve can hear the faint echoes of the whip. He can hear Tony's screams. His pleas. He can almost hear his thoughts.

He cradles him close to his chest, trying to warm him, trying to shield him from the debris that's just starting to fall. The building's falling to pieces and so is Steve. He pushes Tony's hair out of his eyes, as he removes the blindfolded. His eye is blackened. Steve's not surprised.

He breathes in his scent, beneath the blood and sweat. He questions him:  _how long before you gave up on me._

Steve feels a pang of guilt.

He cradles him in his arms, whispering sweet little nothings in his ear before making his way out of the building. There's not much left of it now.

Once they make it out, someone takes Tony from his arms. He can't let go. "It's okay, Steve," he hears someone whisper behind him. He lets the paramedic carry Tony, watches him lie him on a stretcher. "I'm going with him," says Steve, resolute. The paramedic nods in agreement.

"Linda," the woman says when pressed for a name.

 

 

It's been a few hours. Tony's unresponsive. His internal wounds are numerous. It's a miracle he's still alive, they told him. There's something else. Something they're not telling him but he left before he could ask.

He couldn't be there. Couldn't be around the smell of antiseptic and the sound of machines buzzing.  
  
Carol and Rhodey stayed behind. They expressed their displeasure when he got up to leave. He couldn't look them in the eye, not when he had obviously failed to keep his promise.  
  
He knew it was a cowardly thing to do but he just couldn't stay there... He couldn't.

 

 

Sam and Peggy stayed behind to rummage through the debris for anything they could salvage from the missing shipment. Bucky returned having found something he knew Steve needed to see.

 

 

Steve doesn't remember getting back to the apartment. The whole night's a blur.  
  
"Steve," says Bucky, his voice wavering in a way it usually doesn't. He's standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe. Steve's sitting on the bed –  _their_  bed – resting his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. He doesn't look up.  
  
"Steve, you're going to want to watch this," he holds up a chip. "They... They recorded the whole thing, Steve." His voice breaks at the end. It's more than enough for Steve.  
  
He looks up; his eyes are blotchy and red. He stands up, and in seconds, he's standing in front of Bucky, holding out his hand, and refusing to meet him in the eye. He takes the chip from him before closing the door. He doesn't open again it until he hears Bucky leave.

 

 

He's sitting on the floor, watching the video. 

He looks at the frozen image. The disgust wells in him.  _How could you do this? He's your brother..._  
  
Arno walks to stand in front of Tony and caresses his cheek, swollen from the punches, blood raining down the side of his head. The whole time, the whip's in his hands. Steve can almost make out the tears trailing down Tony's cheeks. His quiet gasps. His sadistic brother continues speaking, _"Oh, but is this how you like it?"_  He whips him the first time, the leather hitting his ribs, and Tony holds his breath.

Steve can see his chest heaving.  _"Do you enjoy this?"_  He smacks down. This time, hitting his arm. Tony bites his lower lip. You can see it quivering.

He's relentless.  _"Is this what turns you on?"_  He brings the whip down, hard, on his thigh. The muscles just below the surface vibrate with the force of the blow. Tony screams, not for the first time. It’s etched in his mind, forever. It’s all Steve hears.

 _"Does it excite you to be at the mercy of someone else?"_  Anger wells up. Steve can feel his blood boiling.  _You piece of absolute shit_. He devises thirty-five different ways to kill Arno, to make him pay for this.

The whip leaves a gash on Tony's upper thigh. He's panting now.  _The pain must be unbearable._  His fists his hands. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take but it's the least he can do.

 _"You know, you're at my mercy now and I have no intention of pleasing you or making this pleasant. So, are you going to scream for me?"_  He whips him just above his spine; the skin breaks easily, blood quickly pooling on the surface. Tony's bloodcurdling scream will haunt Steve. He dabs his eyes with his sleeves.

_"Are you going to beg me like the needy little bitch you are?"_

Steve stops the video. He puts the laptop down, beside him. His heart's racing. He wants to kill Arno. He wants to punch the wall. He thinks about destroying anything and everything within reach but doesn't.

The love of his life, tortured by his brother, no less, all for being with him.

He's exhausted. He's wracked with guilt. He's run out of options. He brings his knees up to his chest. He starts to cry.

 _Tony, please be alive_  is the only thing he can bring himself to say.

_I love you._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, bear with me. Also, heed the warnings.

He had walked back into the main room, the flashing lights, combined with his numerous glasses of whiskey, and the adrenaline from his argument with Steve, left him a little uneasy on his feet. He felt long, slender fingers grab his waist. He felt the long, wavy hair fall past his shoulders as she leaned over. He felt her breath on his neck, as she pressed her face close, and nibbled on his ear. “Antonio,” she murmured in that velvety voice of hers, and he knew he had to follow, knew he couldn’t resist, “come with me.”

His first thought was, _Natasha, is that you_.

He could feel her lips on his neck but he knew, even before he felt the gun to his back, that it was useless; there was no way he’d win against her, not like this. She spun around; her vibrant green hair framing her face and her honey eyes illuminating her features. _She’s so beautiful_ , he thought.

_She’s dangerous. Run._

He didn’t. He followed Gamora, silently, not trusting his voice, into an empty banquet hall. _Just stick to the plan, Stark. Just, stick to the plan._ Easier said than done.

 

He could hear the music above him. The sounds of hundreds of people moving to the rhythm. He could still smell the sea. They were still on the boat.

He slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear as if there were a film obstructing his view.

He was trying to recall what had happened. It came to him in chunks and pieces. He was trying to make sense of it. He remembered dancing with Gamora. The way her hair moved as she twirled on the dancefloor. He could feel the vibrations; the sound waves bouncing off him. Her kiss both deliberate and damaging. The sounds of the audience gathered cheering and applauding.

The rush of wind. The smell of salt. _Steve_.

The thought made him wistful.

He continued replaying the night in his mind. Gamora was both cunning and manipulative _._ He had been too busy, intoxicated by her beauty, and too trusting to notice when she slipped something in his drink. He could almost hear his father berating him for being soft. He tried to silence those thoughts to no avail; they weren’t going away so easily. “ _Never had the stones to do what had to be done.”_

He grimaced.

After a few moments, he was alert enough to take in his surroundings. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room in a soft golden glow. His wrists were tied to the chair at the foot of the long dinner table. _How original_ , he thought, but it made him smile, oddly enough.

At first, he didn’t hear it, too busy trying to determine what had happened to him, but then, realizing he wasn’t alone, he heard the slow intake of breath _. Someone else is here_ , he thought. He lifted his head slowly, his hair falling to his face, and his indigo eyes met a pair of blue eyes the color of the Caribbean. Sitting across from him, his hands linked and resting on the table, was none other than Peter.

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “Hello, Peter.” He rose from his seat, buttoning his jacket as he walked over. He was dressed impeccably.

He was handsome but not like Steve. He was equally as tall, but leaner, less muscular. He was still strong though, you could see it in the way he moved. Tony couldn’t help but admire him. He commanded authority but in a very different way than did Steve.

“How do you feel?” It was an innocent question. Tony thought it over before he responded. “Fine.” Suddenly, Peter turned his chair so that he’d face him. He pushed his hair back and titled his chin. “She’s right. You have beautiful eyes.” Before Tony could ask, the door opened. Tony tried to turn his head to see who had joined them, but Peter, tugging at his cheek, forced him to keep eye contact. He started tugging at his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, and Tony visibly stiffened. It was then he felt the first punch.

He tasted blood.

With one hand, Peter held him in place, with the other he continued to punch him until one side of his face felt swollen. He knew he couldn’t swallow much more. It was thick and viscous. Although, the alternative was worse, spitting it out had only lead to yet another punch, this time, in the eye.

“It such a shame, really. You could have anyone you want. Hell, you could still have me.” Peter took Tony’s hand in his, twisting the wedding band on his finger. “Oh, do you really think he cares?” Tony wanted to say yes but he couldn’t, not after their fight on the deck. A part of him – the part that clung onto hope – wished for nothing more than for Steve to find him here so that they could be off and on their way.

Peter put his hands on his thigh as he knelt before him. “Natasha tells me wonderful things about you.” Tony doesn’t – _can’t_ – hear this. He doesn’t want to talk about Natasha.

She clears her throat. Tony feels a pang of sadness. _She's been here this whole time._ “I’ll be back. Just, keep him busy until Arno shows up. Then we get paid and we’re done.” She didn’t even avert her eyes when she looked at Tony. It was as if he wasn’t there. She stared straight through him.

Gamora spoke up, “What will you do, Nat?” Her tone surprised him. He hadn’t expected to hear such fondness. He stopped paying attention after that.

Peter had pulled on his belt. He felt his lungs constrict. Tony tried to move but couldn’t. He felt the rope digging into his wrist. He felt the bruising.

“What? You don’t like this. Is it only okay when Steve does it?” He ran his fingers down his chest and Tony tried, desperately, to think of anything else.

He couldn’t.

He was growing weary. He knew it would only get worse when Arno arrived. He knew his brother didn’t care, had never cared for him, or for anyone.

Peter hadn’t done anything unforgiveable yet. He could still walk away from this.

Peter pushed the hair out of his face again and caressed his cheek. He could feel the bruises, the open gashes where his ring had beat into his flesh. Tony’s tongue, mouth, and face were so swollen, as was his neck that he couldn’t speak.

Peter, resting his knees on the floor, rose. He pulled out a vial from his jacket pocket. Tony’s blood froze but Peter forced him to maintain eye contact, holding his head in place, unable to move. “Do you know what this is?”

 _Of course_ , thought Tony, but he couldn’t say it. _I'm responsible._ Couldn’t say all the things he wanted to say. He didn’t have a voice.

Peter beckoned Gamora to come over, which she did. _Beautiful people would be my downfall_. His father’s word haunted him yet again. _“People are assets never to be trusted.”_ He had learned a long time ago, that you couldn’t trust family, most of all.

He scowled when Arno walked in. “You got blood on the carpet,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. He didn't even bother looking at Tony, directing his attention at Peter, who stood to the side, with Gamora just behind him.

However, Natasha was nowhere to be found.

For a moment, Tony didn’t worry about himself. He had a bad feeling. _Steve, where are you?_

Arno walked over and stood in front of him. He grabbed Tony’s hand and Tony tried pulling away, to no avail. Arno smacked him. He moved the chair so that it was flush against the table. He motioned for Gamora to come over. She spared Tony a look and something in her eyes made Tony involuntarily flinch. He couldn’t see out of his left eye. Arno grabbed his wrist as she released the rope.

He should’ve fled then, but he couldn’t.

He felt the knife slice into his skin, through his bone. He would’ve screamed if he had had any voice left, but his vocal cords hurt, with the area around them, irritated. The pain rippled through him.

He thought back to Steve when he had given him the ring and he cried, quietly. _Steve, please._

At that moment, he felt a stab on the side of his neck and everything went black.

 

 

When he woke up, he was hanging by his wrist, completely naked. The gray, unassuming walls tormented him. Just then, Arno came back in, a whip in one hand and a blindfold in the other, and Tony started to cry, tears trailing down his cheeks. By this point, he had lost track of all the minutes that had passed. By this point, he had stopped caring. 

He had long given up on Steve – or anyone – ever finding him. He knew now that no one would come for him.

However, he knew he couldn’t die. He had survived the first forty-eight hours. Arno could beat him until he was on the brink of death, then nurse him back to health, just to do it all over again, and Extremis would heal him.

Tony didn’t know which fate was worse.

When the whip hit his back, he couldn’t contain the screams anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to ruin the ending, but this is the worst of it.
> 
> I thought it unfair to leave Tony's experience out, so I wanted to explore that here but I may have gotten carried away. It was implied, but Tony couldn't move. He was immobilized, which is why he was hardly restrained.
> 
> I had said this would only be ten chapters but there is at least one more chapter and an epilogue.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of feels in this chapter. It gave me feels.

He opened his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear. _Well, that’s going to take some getting used to_ , he thought, apprehensively. He sat up and looked around. The room was empty. The was no sound, other than the whizzing and buzzing of the machines, checking to see whether or not his heart was still beating.

Sadly, it was.

He stood. It was much easier to move than he had thought it would be given his condition. He wondered if this had always been the case or if this, too, was something to which he’d have to get accustomed.

He pulled out the IV and disconnected the heartrate monitor. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone – presumably, a nurse or a doctor – showed up and reconnected it. He’d have a few minutes, at best.

He walked to the bathroom. Luckily, there was one in the room. He stood in front of the mirror and looked up. Cold, unfeeling eyes glared at him. “I hate it when you look at me like that,” he scoffed at his reflection.

He turned on the faucet and let the water run, watching the droplets speckle the basin. He ran his fingers under the stream. The water was cold. Too cold.

Suddenly, he was no longer in that bathroom. He was no longer in that hospital room. He was no longer in the ICU. Instead, he was miles away…

He griped the sink and slowly counted to ten.

_One. Inhale._

_Two. Exhale._

_Three. Inhale._

_Rinse and repeat._

He closed his eyes but all he felt was the chill of the room, all he saw were those grey walls. All he heard was _his_ voice, taunting him. _You’re weak. You’ve always been weak._

He knew it wasn’t real. At least, not this time. It _had_ been real. He had suffered as the minutes became hours… At some point, he had lost track of the days. _You’re living on borrowed time._

Time, always a fickle thing…

At some point, he had prayed it would end. _It was only a matter of time before they left you… Natasha left you, not like she had ever loved you anyway. It was painfully obvious, Tony… To everyone, but you, that is._

_They’ll never find you here._

His heart started beating erratically. He clutched his chest. He slowly started backing away, almost crashing into the door behind him. This time, he counted to one hundred.

_Ninety-eight. Exhale._

_Ninety-nine. Inhale._

_One-hundred. Exhale._

Slowly, he opened his eyes, avoiding the mirror entirely. A black film obscured his view for a moment. Once his vision cleared, he picked his head up, and looked at his reflection once more. _Accept it, Tony, you have no one._

He felt the warm, wet tears fall. _Where the hell were you, Steve?_

He closed his eyes once more, but this time, he saw something different.

 

_There was soft music playing in the background._

_“I didn’t know you knew how to play,” said Steve, as he leaned against Tony’s thigh. He laughed, softly. “My mother taught me,” he said, feeling unusually nostalgic. He glanced down at Steve, who was sketching the room as he saw it. “Why… Would… Steve, I think I want you to draw me.”_

_Steve turned and tilted his head. He smiled, lazily. His pale, blue eyes met Tony’s deep, cerulean ones. “I can do that.”_

_He was sitting, completely naked, with his legs crossed in the middle of the bed, a wall of pillows behind him, and a thin blanket covering his legs. “Steve, this is ridiculous.”_

_“You wanted this.”_

_“But –”_

_“No buts,” replied Steve. He stood at the far end of the room, leaning against the glass, the Brooklyn Bridge visible in the background, the pale spring sun illuminating it in the distance. Tony smirked, “Well, if that were true…”_

_Steve looked up from his sketchbook and grinned._

 

He could still smell the fresh, clean linens. He could see eyes, the color of December skies, staring down at him lovingly. He could still hear _his_ deep, bellowing laugh as the pencil hit the paper and he began to sketch.

 

He reopened his eyes and exhaled slowly. Then, he stood back to get a better look at himself. He inspected the bruises. They were healing at a remarkable pace, especially the one around his eye.

Extremis had made him a new person from the inside out. He had never felt more powerful; he could feel every blood vessel, every cell coursing through his veins. His vision was crisper; the world was sharper.

He had never hated himself more. _"Are you going to beg me like the needy little bitch you are?"_

He had always prided himself on his intellect, on his ability to solve problems, to envision solutions, but now… Now, the thing he had helped create was the only thing keeping him alive. _The only good thing about you came from a test tube, Tony._

 _“You’re_ weak _, nothing but a fancy-boy.”_

_“You were always a disappointment, both to me and to your mother.”_

His hands were shaking. The tears were falling hard and fast. He stood, clutching his heart, his breathing, strained. He had bowed his head, staring at his feet, lost in thought. He wondered what would happen next…

So many things had already happened...

After a few moments, his hands still shaking, he took off the hospital gown, and continued his examination. “Let’s see if the other stuff I grew works.”

The whiplashes down his back were nothing more than faint, pink scars. He walked over and turned on the shower, letting the steam build up, obscuring the mirror, before standing under the showerhead, letting the water cascade over him.

He didn’t care if the water burned; he knew he’d heal.

 

 

Steve stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. There was still dirt on his face from when the building had collapsed on top of him as he shielded Tony – bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious – from the worst of the debris. He turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cool water.

His eyes were red, blotchy. _I shouldn’t have watched the video_ , he thought to himself. He looked at his hands. He thought of every single person he had ever hurt, every single punch, every single slap, and felt disgust well-up inside him. He knew, now, that this had always been the plan. _That crafty bastard._

He dried his face with a nearby hand towel. He went back into the room, removed the disk, and turned off the laptop. He held the disk in his hands for a moment and just stared at it. A part of him wanted the vindication of destroying Arno; however, another part of him sought to protect Tony from what the disk contained. _He lived through it once. Once is more than enough._

Unable and unwilling to make a decision, he put the disk on the dresser.

He locked the bedroom door and shut it behind him as he went, making his way to the front door, his leather jacket, helmet, and keys in hand.

 

He felt the cool breeze as he zipped and zoomed, swerving in and out of lanes, up the FDR Drive.

 

He parked in the corner, removed his helmet, and felt eyes boring down on him as his feet his the ground.

“Hello, Captain.”

“Fuck off, Quill. I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“How did you know it was me,” asked Peter as he stepped out of the shadows. Dressed elegantly, in a black tuxedo, he walked toward Steve. His blond hair, sleeked back. He lifted his hands above his head so that Steve would see he wasn’t armed. “This is just a friendly visit. I believe we’re here to see the same patient.”

Steve glared at him, his hands balled into fists at his side. “You have some fucking nerve –”

“Oh, what… You didn’t like my present,” replied Peter, expressionless.

It took all of Steve’s resolve not to pummel him into the ground where he stood. He was fuming. He could barely conceal his rage. However, Steve knew Peter was goading him into a fight; otherwise, he wouldn’t have come from behind the way he did.

Steve took a deep, steadying breath, and counted to ten before he spoke. “Quill, I suggest you get the _fuck_ out of my way,” bellowed Steve as he turned to walk away.

“Rogers, wait,” said Peter, grabbing his wrist.

“Quill,” he sneered. “I’m not fucking with you,” roared Steve. He grabbed his hand, where it rested on his wrist, and yanked it away. “I need you to get out of my way.” Peter stepped back and straightened his tie. He then motioned for Steve to follow him into the building. “I wasn’t lying, Rogers. I’m here to see Stark.” Steve paused in front of him. “You’re definitely not going in there with me but even if I were to let you accompany me – which I’m not – you’re definitely not getting in until you talk.”

Peter smiled. “Listen, I didn’t know Arno was going to torture him –”

“But you found out rather quickly, didn’t you? You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve done something but why would you? Getting rid of Tony has been your plan all along. Listen, I don’t have time for bullshit right now. I’m here to see my husband – who may or may not be dead – so I’m going to need you to get the fuck out of my way before I lose what little cool I have left.”

Peter didn’t move. “Rogers, maybe if Natasha hadn’t beat you, you would’ve found Tony sooner –”

Steve had heard more than enough. He had tried to keep his aggression in check but Peter had pushed him too far. He punched Peter squarely in the nose, blood trickling down his chin.

Peter stood, transfixed, clutching his broken nose. Steve looked at him and thought, _well, at least you’re at a hospital, you good-for-nothing motherfucker._

“Quill,” hissed Steve, “if I ever see you again, I promise you: I’m going to kill you with my bear hands. Leave.” Without turning back, Steve walked into the hospital and prayed Tony was still alive.

_Please, please forgive me._

 

 

Carol and Rhodey were pacing back and forth in the small, deserted waiting room of the ICU, awaiting news on Tony. They looked dirty, tired, and irate as Steve approached them. Rhodey had stopped pacing when he heard Steve approaching and stood, wearing an expression of pure hatred.

Carol turned to look at him and glared.

Steve ignored them and sat down in the corner of the waiting room. He picked up a magazine and began flipping through it absentmindedly. When he reached the last page, he set it down beside him on the adjacent chair, and spoke, calmly, “Is Tony awake?”

Rhodey grabbed Steve by the collar. “You don’t get to come here and ask about Tony because it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t matter to you.” Steve looked into his deep, brown eyes and recognized the pain, hurt, and anger he saw. He stood, hands balled in his pockets, and took another deep breath.

“I – I’m sorry. I – I couldn’t stay. I had to clear my head.” Carol moved to stand beside Rhodey. “You think we want to be here? No, Steve, we’re here because we’re all he has left. Clearly that ring on your hand doesn’t mean anything.”

Steve, pulsating with rage, pushed Rhodey aside, and stood in front of her. “Carol, you have absolutely no idea what this ring means to me.”

“Yeah, well, enlighten me, Captain. I’m dying to know,” responded Carol. She closed the gap between them. She could feel his breath on her. “I told you once I’d make sure Peggy got your head on a silver platter if you ever hurt Tony.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. I hope you enjoy the last few hours of your life then,” she retorted. Rhodey put his hand on her shoulder. “Carol, I know you’re pissed – hell, I’m furious – but killing Steve would hurt Tony and I think he’s suffered enough.” She turned to face him and shrugged, “I guess you’re right.”

Turning back to face Steve, she sneered, “If Tony still wants you around, you can stay.”

Steve didn’t want to reflect on what Carol said. Instead, he sat down and rubbed his eyes. When he spoke, he changed the topic. “Is he awake?”

“We don’t know,” responded Rhodey, “we’ve been here for hours but we haven’t heard anything. He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Carol chimed in, “Steve, they injected him with Extremis. We were trying to tell you before you left.” At the mention of Extremis, Steve’s eyes darted up between them: blue and brown. He thought back to Tony, bloodied and bruised, screaming. He thought back to Tony, in his arms, barely breathing. _He would’ve died. I_ was _too late._

Just then, they heard the doctor approaching. “Mr. Stark’s awake. He took out his IV and disconnected his heartrate monitor only moments ago.” Steve, Rhodey, and Carol eyed each other, apprehensively.

 

Steve walked into the room and heard the shower running.

He sat on a chair near the bed and waited for Tony to come out of the shower. If Tony was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it. He was standing before him in a hospital gown, his hair, still wet, dripped down his back; his cheeks, flushed from the heat of the water.

Tony looked into his eyes and in a cool voice said, “Hello, Steve.”

Steve stood and moments later, enveloped Tony in a hug, pressing kisses into his hair. “Tony, I thought I’d never see you again.” Tony pushed Steve away, leaving him to stand in the middle of the room, looking both hurt and confused, as he walked back toward the bed, and sat down. “Steve, tell me everything. I want to know everything that happened after I left you on the deck.”

Steve, feeling resigned, sat in the chair he had vacated only moments before and started talking.

 

“Tony, you should know I –”

Tony turned to face him, questioningly, “Go on.”

“Bucky, Peggy, and Sam went back to the warehouse – or, what’s left of it – while they were there, they found,” he took a deep breath. Tony waited; the silence between them tense. “There’s a disk… It contains…videos.”

Tony raised his hand, “Stop. What did you see, Steve?”

“I saw enough,” responded Steve. “Tony, I’m – I’m so sorry.”

“Steve, I thought I’d never see you – or anyone – ever again. I think I’m past ‘sorry.’” His hands were shaking. Steve reached over and squeezed them, softly. “I’m here now.”

“Steve, if I wanted to kill you right now, I could. It would take so little effort. No one would even know.” Steve’s eyes widened. He bowed his head and looked at his hands in his lap.

“Steve, I asked you once before if this was real and you said it was. Here I am, recovering from…” He ran his hands through his hair. He shifted on the bed and Steve titled his head; their eyes locked. “I told you I forgave you for everything.”

Steve’s hands, still in his lap, were shaking. He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a small, platinum band that he kept turning over. “Tony, I can’t ask you to forgive me," he said, unable to meet Tony’s eyes. When he looked up, they were filled with tears.

“God, Steve, I have every reason to hate you but I just can’t," replied Tony.

"Everything just _feels_ different.” The tears started falling, slowly, at first, but then, quickly gaining momentum. He kept his voice and his breathing steady with the help of Extremis. “We both fell for Gamora’s trap. You fell for Natasha’s and I fell for Peter’s.” He wiped the tears with the back of his hand. “I was forced to take a virus, which I helped create, by my sadistic brother as he tortured me to death. Now, I’m a superhuman and all I want to do is leave this godforsaken city. I’m just so fucking tired, of everything.”

Steve stood and leaned over to hug him. Tony moved so he could sit on the bed next to him. Then, he leaned into his shoulder and Steve wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “Tony, I love you.” Tony squeezed him tighter, sobbing even louder than before. “I know, Steve, I know.” He felt the knot in his chest slowly unravel. He leaned back against the pillow. Steve opened his palm, placing the ring he had pulled out of his pocket in Tony’s hand as he spoke. “This is yours, only if you want it to be.”

“I do, Steve. I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue to tie up some of the loose ends but this is the end.
> 
> I borrowed some lines of dialogue from Extremis and Legacy of Doom. Tony's feeling regarding Extremis come, largely, from Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., which I recommend reading if you haven't already.
> 
> 1610 Tony doesn't have Extremis, and in this fic, no one has superpowers, so, I thought it would be interesting to explore that. 
> 
> Ultimately, Tony here is an amalgam of both 616 and 1610; however, that's not true for the rest of the characters. They're from whichever universe they hail.


	12. Epilogue: Escape - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the first part of the two-part epilogue.

Three Weeks Later:

 

“Glad you could join us, Steve. How’s Tony,” asked Peggy. She was reclining on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand, moonlight pouring through the parted blinds behind her. Bucky and Sam were in the kitchen, arguing in hushed voices. Steve firmly closed the door behind him.

“I thought this was a business meeting.”

“Oh, lighten up. It is a business meeting. We’re meeting for business. No one said we couldn’t drink on the job,” replied Peggy, smirking. Steve took a seat next to her and she adjusted herself.

Bucky ignored Steve and sat across from Peggy, a beer in his hands. He turned to face him and asked rather brusquely, “Does Stark know you’re here?”

“No,” said Steve.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Only if it’s necessary but that won’t be the case,” responded Steve.

“Pretty sure that’s how this whole mess started, Steve, with you keeping shit from him,” responded Bucky, clearly frustrated. Peggy shot him a look and he shrugged.

“How can you be so sure,” asked Sam, trying to diffuse the situation as he walked into the room, and took a seat next to Bucky.

 “If you don’t want to do this, there’s the door, Sam,” retorted Steve, blatantly ignoring Bucky.

“I’m in Cap, I was just asking,” said Sam in response.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” said Peggy, taking a sip from her glass, “how are we going to kill Arno Stark, Peter Quill, and Natasha Romanoff, and when do we start?”

 

 

Tony was twirling a platinum ring between his fingers as he overlooked Central Park. “Mr. Stark, would that be all?”

Tony turned to face the man in question. He was carrying a box labeled “Extremis,” which contained all the files on which he and Maya had worked.

For a moment, his mind drifted. It seemed like so very long ago that she had sat on the sofa to his right, her long, brown hair falling well past her shoulders, as she animatedly explained the schematics of the virus, as they drank coffee by the liter and wrote code, as she softly kissed his neck, her hand splayed across his shoulder. _“Tony, we’ll finish tomorrow… C’mon, let’s go to bed,”_ her eyes dark and heavily lidded, desire plainly written on her smooth, delicate features.

The thought left him as quickly as it came; he answered the man, who was patiently waiting for a response, “That’s the last box. Thank you.”

He turned, once again, to face Central Park.

It was a delightful summer afternoon. There was an art installation on Fifth Avenue, which had drawn a large crowd. The horse-drawn carriages marched up and down 59th Street. There were tourists snapping selfies along the paths, atop the rocks deposited by the last of the glaciers, and on the boats as they rowed across the lake.

Tony would miss this vantage point but he had grown tired of this apartment. If he were honest with himself, he had grown tired of this city.

Once the mover had left, Tony was all alone with his wedding ring and his thoughts.

“Tony,” said Steve, as he walked into the empty apartment.

Tony hadn’t heard him come in, but then again, he hadn’t been paying attention. He slid the ring back on his finger before he turned to face Steve, who was eyeing him curiously. “Did I keep you waiting,” asked Steve.

“No, not at all. The last of the movers left just now… I was just…” He looked out the window once more. Steve interrupted his thought. “We don't have to do this, Tony.”

“Steve, there's nothing left to do but leave. I've liquidated my assets. I've sold the apartment. I’ve relinquished control of my businesses to Rhodey and Carol.” Tony turned to face Steve. “If you want to stay, we can stay. I still have the apartment in Brooklyn – only you and a handful of people know that residence. Plus, we’ll be back, eventually.”

Steve laughed, “I didn't think you'd want to leave the city forever.”

Tony responded, “No, definitely not forever, just long enough to forget.”

Steve closed the space between them. He walked over to where Tony stood by the massive window and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Nightmares?” Tony nodded and Steve ran his fingers through the hairs at the base his neck, pulling him into the nook of his neck, and kissing the crown of his head. “They're never going to go away, not really. Some days are better than others.”

Tony looked up at him, adoringly, and cupped his cheeks, “Most people would offer words of encouragement.”

“Good thing I'm not most people,” replied Steve, as he lifted his chin and kissed him. At first, it was chaste. Steve had forgotten the taste of him, the way he melted when he nibbled on his lower lip, as he ran his hands down his back, squeezing his ass. “I missed you,” said Steve, his voice, breathless.

Steve pulled away, “Tony, we don't have to do anything…”

Tony replied, shyly, “I know.” He pulled him in for hug. The two men stood there, in each other’s arms, for quite some time. Steve massaged his back as Tony’s head rested on his shoulders.

After a few moments, Steve spoke, quietly, unsure. “Is this what you want, Tony?”

“Even if I wasn’t, I can’t back out now.”

Steve spoke; an undercurrent of bitterness tinged his words. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner you were planning on selling this place?”

“I wanted to…,” sighed Tony, pulling away and retreating to the window, where he had been standing when Steve had walked in. “I bought the apartment in Brooklyn because I needed a residence in New York but… Even then,” he shifted uncomfortably, intentionally avoiding Steve’s gaze as he spoke. “We were planning our escape.”

He turned around to face him, massaging his arm. “This must be awkward for you.”

Steve walked over and held his hands. “No, it’s not.”

Tony dropped his hands and without turning back to see that Steve had followed, walked out of the apartment, and didn’t look back.


	13. Epilogue: Escape - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER. 
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken so long to post this. I wrote most of this chapter a few weeks ago but I haven't been able to post it until now. Thank you to [Sheila](http://roachalk.tumblr.com) and [Stefani](http://cinnamonrollbucky.tumblr.com) for being my betas.
> 
> I hope this is a satisfactory ending.

One Week Later:

 

It was a quiet night and he was alone.

 

The metallic smell of blood overwhelmed his senses, the cool, indifferent gray walls, which had haunted him ever since, and the sensation of a whip hitting his broken skin, woke him with a start.

He was sweating. He wiped his brow and looked over.  _Great, another night without Steve._  He rubbed his face and got off the bed. _He’s off avenging_ , thought Tony bitterly as he made his way toward the bathroom. 

His hands were shaking.

He always sought a shower after waking up like this, if only so he could feel clean, albeit superficially. He'd never be clean, not really, not with Extremis running through him, not with the memory of what had been done to him. 

Every time he closed his eyes he could feel the whip hit him again. He remembered the tearing flesh, the warm blood oozing down his back, and the cries for help that escaped his lips. 

He could never wipe away all the blood but he could try, so he did. 

He stared at his feet as the scalding water cascaded over him. For a moment, the water changed color and the phantom sensations returned. He rested his open palm on the cool tile as he tried to center himself. 

_It could've easily been someone else. It could've been Maya._

He slumped on the floor, the water pouring over him. He brought his knees to his chest and let the sadness engulf him as he cried. 

 

Moments later, Steve stood outside the shower, his hands were covered in blood and there was some on his suit. He had wanted to rinse off before joining Tony, unaware his lover had woken up and had decided to shower. He took a deep breath just as Tony slid the curtain. 

Their eyes met.

 

"I can hear you breathe." He didn't say anything about the blood. He didn't wince or turn away. He stepped out, dripping wet, onto the bath mat and pulled Steve to him. "Well, at least now I know why you weren't sleeping next to me when I woke up. Who'd you go after this time?" He spoke the words as if their implied meaning was anything but murder.

Steve could either lie or tell the truth but Bucky's words haunted him so he opted for the latter. "We raided another warehouse."

"I'm surprised you're still looking for whatever's left of those shipments, you told me yourself, they blew up with the warehouse even if it's unlike my brother to put all his eggs in one basket," he shrugged. He wiped the blood from Steve's cheek with his still wet hand.

"Tony, this isn't my blood."

"Of course not, darling, only mere mortals bleed." 

Steve winced at that but Tony smirked and reached for his wrist. Instinctively, he pulled back. "Tony, you have to know whose blood this is."

"Do I? Do I really? Can't you just tell me what I want to hear: that you missed me that you didn't mean to leave me alone?”

He reached for a towel and began drying his hair. “I don’t need you out there fighting my battles for me. I need you here with me when I wake up in a cold sweat. I have a good idea whose blood is all over you and I don't give a fuck. I never have. I need you here with me. If I wanted to, I could drag you back into the shower with me," he yawned and stretched. "I'm stronger now than I've ever been but I've never felt weaker." 

He grabbed another towel and wrapped it around himself. "I'll wait for you but only if you're quick." He shut the door behind him leaving Steve all alone. Bucky's warning kept replaying in his mind.

 _Damn you, Buck._ He wiped the fog from the mirror and tugged on his tie, tossing it on the floor. The blood glistened when the light hit it at just the right angle. Steve finished undressing and stepped into the shower. Steam filled the room as blood washed down the drain.

 

"It's probably in your best interest that I can't sleep," whispered Tony into the darkness as Steve shut the door behind him half an hour later. The moonlight illuminated his path as he walked toward the bed. 

Steve quickly glanced around the room. Tony had haphazardly tossed his towel onto the ottoman before crawling into bed expectantly. 

His tousled curls obscured his eyes from this angle. He started to sit up as Steve towel dried his hair. The towel around his hips was precariously close to falling. "Tony, I –"

"Actions speak louder than words, darling, just come here and apologize, let's save the heart-to-heart for the morning," replied Tony crawling to the edge of the bed before rolling on his back. He stared at Steve. His dark eyelashes contrasted starkly with the intense blue of his irides. “I miss the taste of you on my lips.”

Steve paused and looked at him. "Tony, you really don't care?"

Tony sighed and turned on his stomach and peered up to look at Steve. "Why is this bothering you? When have I cared?" Tony tugged on his towel, drawing him down; their lips almost touched.

"I don't know, I thought after what happened that you... That you wouldn't be okay with this – what we do, what I do – anymore."

Tony laughed. It sounded unnatural coming from his lips and took Steve by surprise. "Oh, Steve, that's what worries you?" Steve nodded, unsure of the course this conversion had taken. 

"Whose blood was on you?"

"You're not going to like the answer," responded Steve as Tony pulled him closer, pushed him onto the bed, and straddled him.

"That's for me to decide, Steve,” said Tony rolling his hips and biting Steve’s lower lip. 

He let out a moan but turned his head away and said, "Natasha."

Tony froze. He opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. "Is she dead?"

"Yes," replied Steve trying to keep his voice even. 

"Who killed her,” asked Tony. Steve couldn't identify the emotion in his voice. He crawled off Steve and sat in the center of the bed with his legs crossed.

Steve, still lying on his back, turned away to face the open window. His apartment was much smaller than Tony's; nevertheless, he had still managed to secure a loft on the Brooklyn waterfront. The Manhattan Bridge was in full view. He could see the train passing and briefly wondered if that was the N or the D.

"Peggy, Sam, Bucky and I have been trying to track her down since the night on the yacht. She's a chameleon," said Steve, rubbing his arm. His muscles were sore from the fight. "Peggy narrowed it down so we followed her lead. We didn't know what we'd find when we got there. She put up a hell of a fight…" 

 

 

_"Oh, Steven. Wouldn't it have been better if I had just killed him? Wouldn't that have solved everything?"_

_"It wouldn't have solved a damn thing, and you know it."_

_"Yes, well, I suppose you're right, but I would've enjoyed it." She moved closer, the blade still in her hands, blood dripping from its tip._ _"Does our beloved know you're here? Does he know you've been wanting to kill me with your bare hands?"_

_"I'm not going to kill you, Nat," said Steve._

_"I am," said Peggy, coming up from behind. She put her hand on her shoulder, turning and pushing her so that their eyes met, briefly, for the last time, as Peggy pulled the trigger. Steve, who was standing close enough for the blood to splatter all over him, saw Natasha hesitate. It was a rookie mistake and it cost her._

_Peggy fired one shot directly between her brows._

_There was blood everywhere but Steve didn’t look away._

_What was left of Natasha was lying in a pool of red. Peggy had fallen to her knees, clutching her side. "That bitch stabbed me." Steve chuckled. He went over and helped her up._

_He couldn't help but stare at Natasha's lifeless body as they walked out, lying there in a puddle of her own blood._

_Sam and Bucky were waiting for them outside. Steve turned to Bucky, as Sam took Peggy by the hand and led her to the car. "Get rid of her."_

 

 

The warm hand on the small of his back dragged him out of his reverie. "Don't move," said Tony as he kissed his shoulder blade, rubbing his arm. "Tell me more," he breathed into his ear. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla. Steve wanted nothing more than to flip over and kiss him mercilessly.

"Peggy shot her, point blank." Tony's hands fell. 

"I could've done it, you know," said Tony, solemnly, as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. Steve sat up and moved closer. "You can't know that."

"What aren't you telling me, Steve?"

"I couldn't do it. I watched a woman I knew die at the hands of one of my closest friends. I thought I could do this, Tony, but I don't think I can. At least, not anymore. Not after everything that's happened." There were tears in his eyes. 

Tony, on his knees, leaned over to wrap his arms around his neck and pressed his forehead against his. “I can’t fucking take it anymore. We’re leaving,” said Steve as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Tony sat back against the headboard and threw his head back, laughing. “Pretty sure I said that first, darling. You’re taking my lines,” said Tony, licking his lips.

“I’m being serious, Tony,” replied Steve as he moved toward him and ran a hand down his chest. He watched him quiver at his touch.

“So am I. I’m an insomniac and you could use a pick-me-up, so how about you let me ride you until the sun rises?”

“You’re unpredictable,” retorted Steve, smiling, as he cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. His eyes still glossy. “I spent the whole ride home thinking you’d hate me.”

“Steve, there are so many reasons why I can and should hate you but it doesn’t work like that.”

“You’re a fucking disaster.”

“Oh, like you’re any better,” laughed Tony as he returned the kiss. “Every time I close my eyes I see blood. I wake up screaming covered in sweat. I dream of every mistake, every shortcoming, and every fucking calamity I’ve caused or has happened because of me.”

“What do you think I see when I close my eyes,” asked Steve, caressing his cheek.

“Me?”

“Yes, covered in your own blood hardly breathing. I can hear your faint screams etched into those walls. I held you in my arms as the building around us collapsed. If you had died that day… I don’t know what would’ve happened, honestly. For the last month, I’ve been chasing down every motherfucker that’s ever hurt you and I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” He pulled away and wiped the tears streaming down his face. "Dammit, Tony. I fucked up."

 

Tony looked into his eyes. “I forgive you.”

“For everything?”

“Yes,” said Tony, quietly as he reached for Steve’s hand.

“Even Natasha?”

“You didn’t kill her,” replied Tony, wiping the remaining tears from Steve’s blotchy cheek.

“No, but I was there.”

“Yes,” said Tony, taking a deep breath, “even Natasha.”

“Do you hate me?” Steve sounded so small when he spoke as if the world hinged on the answer to this one question, and in many ways, it did.

Tony held Steve’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed the knuckle just above his ring finger. He felt the cool touch of the platinum band on his skin and smiled softly as he spoke, “No, I could never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a coda. I'll link to it when I'm done.
> 
> You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://adorkabledora.tumblr.com) where I post [my writing](http://adorkabledora.tumblr.com/tagged/dora-writes).


	14. Coda - El farolito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months ago I said I'd add a coda to this. Well, it's a new year.
> 
> Steve and Tony are enjoying their long-awaited honeymoon in the Caribbean. Things don't go as well as they should...until they do.

6 Months Later:

 

The server walked over carrying a tray of drinks, which she balanced precariously on her palm. The sound of her stilettos echoed on the tile. Steve watched her as she made her way across the vast room towards him.  Her sun-kissed skin glowed. Her long, sleek hair, which framed her face and fell past her shoulders, moved as she moved: effortlessly.

She was beautiful. _Must be the rum_ , he thought. 

The soft breeze tousled his hair as he sat up and fixed his tie. He took one last puff of his cigar and dropped it into the ashtray next to his empty glass. He moved his hat to the other side of the table so it wouldn’t obscure his view.

Then, he turned away, and looked out into the crowd. 

“ _Con hielo_ ,  _como lo había pedido_ ,  _señor_ ,” said the server as she placed the scotch on the rocks in front of him, swapping it for the drink he had finished. She added the empty glass to her tray as she spoke. 

“ _Disfrute_ ,  _señor_.” She smiled at him, jovially. Her dark brown eyes met his azure ones briefly. She took a small umbrella from her tray, opened it, and dropped it into his drink. He chuckled and brought the amber liquid to his lips for a sip.

“ _Muchas gracias_ ,  _señorita_ ,” replied Steve, as she walked away, making her way to the next table. 

It was then he noticed his husband, in the center of the dance-floor twirling a slim woman. Her long, auburn hair whipping around her as she danced. Steve took another sip. A brief silence accompanied the end of the song just before the next one came on. Steve took a moment to take off his suit jacket, letting it hang from the arm of the adjacent chair. As he took his seat, he undid his tie. At no point did he take his eyes off him. 

In the center of the dance-floor, dozens of people swayed to the beat. Tony took the woman’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. His lips brushed her knuckles. She smiled, surprised by the gesture. She pulled him in for a hug, wrapping her fingers around his neck, and whispered something in his ear. He lowered his gaze and chuckled. Meeting her eyes, he turned his head, ever so slightly, in Steve’s direction.

From this distance, and with the music blasting, Steve couldn’t hear him, but he saw his lips move. From afar, Steve was studying their interaction, his curiosity getting the best of him. Seconds later, her face fell. Smiling, though not as much as before, she thanked him, and walked away. Tony smoothed his shirt. He was tense but actively trying to relax. As he walked towards the table, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair. When he reached the table, he didn’t meet Steve’s gaze, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off him. Hadn’t taken his eyes off him upon spotting him in the crowd. 

Tony picked up the glass, the ice in it was starting to melt, and took a gulp. He licked his lips and said, “I’m hungry. Is there more rum?” 

“What did she want,” asked Steve, brusquely, ignoring his question. 

Tony pursed his lips, dipping his fingers into his pockets. “Nothing. She just told me her hotel room number. I said I had one waiting for me.”

Steve took the drink out of Tony’s hand but didn’t meet his eyes. He softened his voice. “You should be careful, Tony.”

Tony pulled out the adjacent chair and sat down next to him. Reaching for his knee, but thinking better of it, he said, “I was going to tell you the same –”

“Would you have fucked her,” blurted Steve, seemingly out of nowhere, before he could stop himself. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

Tony stared at him, at a loss for words. The question took him aback. “She’s a beautiful woman and a great dancer.”

Steve took one last sip, finishing the drink. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What’s come over you?”

Steve didn’t reply.

“Well, when you stop being an asshole, maybe you can join me,” said Tony, rising from his seat, one hand on the back of the chair. “Honestly, Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you? You were eye-fucking the brunette that brought you your drink but now you’re jealous of the redhead I danced with – do you not see the irony?”

“You were watching,” asked Steve, as he lit a new cigar.

“As if you weren’t,” retorted Tony, clearly annoyed.

Steve reached for him, touching his wrist. He softened his tone and said, “I’m sorry.”

“As you should be,” replied Tony, moving his hand, and turning to leave. 

Steve stood. He hadn’t meant to come off as menacing, but he couldn’t really control the anger swelling up inside him, not that it was unlike him, but it had been so long. They had been so good. The past six months were so blissful, he had forgotten how quickly things could change.

The past was in the past, why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

_Calm down, Rogers. Before you say something you don’t mean._

“ _Don’t_ – don’t go, Tony. It’s just that after –”

Tony whipped around, a hard look in his eyes, and hissed, “Say her name and I’m leaving. I’ll fly out of here. You know I will. Don’t test me, Rogers.”

 _Back to Rogers_ , thought Steve. Tony pushed the chair back under the table and walked away, leaving Steve standing there, before he had time to formulate a response.

_That went well._

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later:

 

Tony stood before the door of their suite and composed himself. He opened it slowly, knowing Steve would be asleep, and not wanting to wake him. He tip-toed into the room, hoping to be quiet and unobtrusive. However, when he looked up, he found himself face-to-face with a defiant Steve, who had stayed up waiting for him to get back.

Tony’s shoulders slumped as he walked into the room, having given up on the tippy toes. He had been hoping to slide into bed next to Steve and wake up to forehead kisses.

They’d put the evening behind them. It had gone all wrong.

 _Why is this so hard_ , he thought.  _We spent months pretending and it was so much easier then_.

“I’d ask where you’ve been but you reek of alcohol and perfume that isn’t yours, so that solves the mystery,” said Steve, arms crossed over his chest, as he rose from the chair. Tony refused to meet his glare and instead, caught sight of the French doors that lead to their room. They were open, but from where he stood, he couldn’t peer inside.

Tony stood quietly, having stopped moving toward him, but Steve kept walking forward.

There were many things on his mind. He wanted to tell Steve that his words had hurt, that the insinuation that he’d go off with someone else when they were here together had felt worse than anything that had happened to him. It had felt worse than having a virus injected into him. It had felt worse than being left dangling from chains in a cold warehouse, bleeding.

He felt strung out. Exhaustion started to take hold. Even the virus coursing through his veins couldn’t take off the edge, couldn’t lessen what he felt was looming over their heads. If they were going to talk now, he wouldn’t last long.

When Tony looked up, Steve was before him. His hands in his trouser pockets. Tony couldn’t help but think,  _he’s beautiful_. His blonde hair was a little longer now than it had been. Parted to the side, his bangs hung over his eyes. It reminded him of when they first met, all those years ago.

He wanted to run his fingers through his hair, wanted to see the sweat drip down along his hairline as he straddled his cock and rode him. He didn’t say that though. Instead, he laughed bitterly and replied, “Well, I promise, if I shower you won’t smell it anymore.”

Steve bit back a reply. Instead, he reached for his cheek and Tony welcomed the caress.

He wanted to feel his hands roam his body, wanted to feel those fingers wrap around his waist, as the length of him filled him up, held him close, as he came apart. His forehead resting on Steve’s shoulders, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

“ _Please, please_ ,” he’d beg, moaning and groaning into his neck as Steve tightened his hands around his waist, bruising, pushing him down, and pulling him apart.

Steve brought him closer. Tony leaned into him, resting on the crook of his neck, as his arms wrapped around his back. He vacillated between kissing his neck and standing still, unsure which was the appropriate response.

Tony could hear his labored breathing and wondered if those hushed confessions he’d whisper in the middle of night would resurface.

 

_“I love you.”_

_“I need you.”_

_“You’re mine.”_

_“Please, stay.”_

 

Instead, Steve spoke, slowly letting out his breath as he did. “I’m an asshole.”

Tony chuckled, unsure how else to respond. “That you are, darling. That you are. _God_ , I don’t know why I love you.”

“But you do? Love me,” asked Steve, hesitantly.

Tony looked up and into his eyes. Without meaning to do so, he held his breath.

_How could he say no? Wasn’t that how this had started? Wasn’t he incapable of walking away from every devilish thing that came his way? But Steve, with his soft blue eyes, and hay-colored hair, wasn’t devilish. Not in the way Natasha had been._

_No, never like her._ He thought of Steve’s bloodied hands that night in the bathroom, the way his head dropped when he recounted the story of her demise.

_No, definitely not like her._

Every time Steve asked him, he felt that same fear. He recalled that night all those months ago, when he had first asked Steve that question. Now, he could see it had pained him then, to lie, to walk away when he wanted nothing more than to turn around. But in that moment, he had been so consumed with grief, he couldn’t think.

 _Rightfully so_ , his mind supplied as an afterthought.

From here though, he could see Steve’s glassy eyes. It reminded him of the sea, the one he fell in love with as a child, overlooking the Sound. 

 _Why couldn’t he ever show me this side_ , thought Tony,  _the side that felt everything with such intensity_.

Tony wanted so many things, knew he could have them all, and yet, he was left waiting and wanting. In the end, all he could do was listen to his erratic heartbeat and take solace in the knowledge that, at least, in this moment, it was beating for him.

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Steve kissed the top of his head and asked, “Do you want to do this now?”

“Talk,” replied Tony. “No, I don’t, but I’d rather get it over with, Steve. Just rip the Band-Aid off.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, softly, the tension flowing out of his body as he caressed him. “I think we should go lie down, talk this over somewhere more comfortable.” Tony nodded and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s hand as Steve lead him into their room, and shut the French doors behind him.

Steve started taking off his jacket and placed it, neatly, on the ottoman at his feet. He reached for Tony as he was undoing his tie.

“Need help,” he asked. Tony, who was still a little tipsy, nodded. Steve smiled and helped him undress.

“You don’t have to protect me anymore,” muttered Tony. Steve hesitated for a moment, but continued unbuttoning Tony’s shirt, his tie hanging off his shoulders. Steve had already taken off his jacket and had placed it on top of his. Tony moved closer. Steve lowered his hands as Tony’s fingers wrapped around his neck, pulling him down. “I’m stronger than you now, darling.”

“I know, Tony, but this isn’t about strength… I just – I can’t lose you, Tony, and I can’t stop myself from making it impossible for you to stay.”

“Steve, I don’t want to leave, but you can’t keep treating me like this, like I’m some delicate flower,” replied Tony, with his arms still around Steve’s neck.

Steve thought to himself,  _I want to kiss you_.  _I want to hold you in my arms and never let you go_. 

 _I want you to stay,_ please.

 _Please_ ,  _stay_ ,  _Tony_.  _I can’t do this anymore and I surely can’t do it without you_.  _I need you_ ,  _more than you know_.

 

He thought back to that night, all those months ago, and held his breath.

 

_Steve stood up and reached for his hand, “Please, don’t go.”_

_“I should’ve left a long time ago but I didn’t and I won’t leave now.” He took a deep, steadying breathe before he spoke. “I love you, too.”_

_Steve slid the ruby-encrusted platinum ring onto his finger and held it up to his lips. “Do you forgive me?”_

_“Yes,” whispered Tony as he leaned in to kiss Steve, wrapping his hands around his neck, their foreheads touching, briefly._

_“For everything?”_

_“For everything.”_

 

He didn’t say anything though. He couldn’t, not after what he had implied.

He felt Tony’s hands move across his neck, down along his chest. Felt the warmth they exuded. The way it made his body ache and tingle.

“I’m… I’m sorry about before. That was… That was out of line. I knew you didn’t mean anything by it but I… I’ve known you a long time, Tony, and…”

Tony’s hands stopped roaming his body and Steve wanted to take it back. He could never say the right thing.

“She reminded you of Natasha,” said Tony, moving closer and pressing his lips to Steve’s exposed neck. He shivered.

“She also reminded me of Natasha, but there was a liveliness that even Natasha couldn’t fake. I’m attracted to beautiful women, Steve, that’s never going to change, but I don’t want to fuck _them_.”

He finished his sentence with his teeth digging into Steve’s flesh, marking him. “I want you to fuck _me_ , darling. God, I to come apart underneath you. I want to come inside me and I want to scream your name until I’m hoarse. Steve,  _please_.”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed Tony onto the bed, taking off his shoes and pulling off his pants. Steve took in the sight before him: Tony propped up on his elbows, precome dripping onto his abdomen. He watched the rise and fall of his chest, the anticipation in the way he held himself, ever so still, and yet, buzzing with life.

He wanted to taste him, wanted to feel his hard dick at the back of his throat, wanted to feel his lips pulled open by his thickness. He wanted him, more than he had ever wanted anyone.

Tony sat up on his heels and crawled towards him, moving slowly, deliberately as Steve undid his belt. Tony put his hands on his hips and kissed the skin above his waistband. He moaned.

Tony dragged him closer by his belt hoops and unzipped his black slacks. “Steve,” he pleaded. Steve grabbed a handful of his hair. Tony met his gaze. He was drunk, that much was clear from the moment he had walked into the suite, but the desire in his blue eyes was electrifying.

Tony wrapped his hands around Steve’s throbbing cock.

“Fuck my mouth, please.”

Steve placed a hand below his chin, holding Tony in place. Tony licked along the vein, making Steve shudder. He moved his hand, massaging Tony’s neck as he felt the back of his throat. Tony closed his eyes, his hands on Steve’s hips as he thrust, slowly at first, gaining momentum as he went.

Tony’s moans went directly to his throbbing cock. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open, his jaw slack, as his red and swollen lips made way for Steve, as he fucked him.

“I’m close,” said Steve, gripping his hair, and making him moan.

Tony gasped after a particularly hard thrust and choked on his dick. Steve started pulling out, but Tony’s eyes fluttered open and held him in place. He watched Tony’s dilated eyes open and close. Tony licked his wet and reddened lips before wrapping them around Steve’s cock, once again. It was more than enough to push Steve over the edge.

He ran his fingers along his jaw as he came on Tony’s tongue.

Tony licked his lips and Steve could feel himself getting hard again. Then, he pulled down his trousers and grabbed his ass. “Come to bed, darling,” said Tony, slurring his words.

Steve unbuttoned his shirt as he crawled into bed. Delighted, Tony watched, one hand wrapped around his cock. He sat with his back against the headboard. Steve was half hard again eyeing his cock hungrily.

“God, Steve, you can’t look at me like that,” said Tony.

“You want me to stop,” asked Steve.

“No. God, no. I want you to ride me, Steve.”

Steve moved closer, his tongue licking away the precome. “Someone’s a little demanding today.”

“Oh, I deserve it, Steve. I want you to ride me until your knees give way.”

“You’re greedy,” said Steve wrapping his lips around Tony’s cock. He threw his head back, against the headboard, and ran his hands through his hair.

“Absolutely. I want you to keep going until I come. I want to fill you up.”

He bent forward, running his hands through Steve’s matted hair. “You’re mine, Steve, and I’ve worked too hard to see you go. Please, don’t go.”

Steve’s eyes met his. In a moment, Steve straddled him, his knees resting against his thighs, and wrapped his hands around his neck, kissing him.

Their foreheads touched. “You’re mine, too, you know. I need you, Tony.”

Tony nodded. Steve kissed him again. He bit his lower lip, earning a moan from Tony. He gasped as Steve bit on his neck. “ _Fuck_ , Steve. Just fuck me.”

“Thought that’s what you wanted to do,” he whispered against his cheek.

Tony groaned but didn’t respond.

Steve smiled.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” he said, looking at Tony, lovingly.

 

“You’re so beautiful like this, so needy.”

Steve was gripping Tony’s waist, his fingers digging into his sweat-slick skin. Tony’s moans and screams were muffled by Steve’s shoulder, as he bit into the hard muscle there. The skin was beginning to bruise, but it would be gone by morning. Steve loved feeling his teeth sink into flesh.

There was sweat dripping down along Steve’s hairline. He was close to coming again. Tony’s fingers working him over as he rode him, matching his rhythm.

Tony pushed him onto his back, taking Steve by surprise for only a split second. He pushed his leg into his chest and thrust into him. He practically growled, “Darling, you feel  _amazing_.”

Steve wasn’t used to Tony using his strength against him and found it exhilarating.

Tony smirked and hovered above his lips, still wet from before. “I love you, so much,” he said in a gravelly sort of voice so unlike him. Steve couldn’t find the words he wanted to use, couldn’t find that he knew any words, let alone how to speak them. He closed his eyes and gave into the sensation of Tony pounding into him, relentlessly.

Tony cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

“It’s okay, darling. I can hear your heartbeat. You don’t have to say a single thing.”

Steve ran his hands down his sides and Tony shivered. “I love you, too. Extremis and all.”

Their foreheads touched and Tony came. He wanted to pull away but Steve held him in place. “I’ve been dreaming of you, of this, of you like this.”

“Have you,” breathed Tony, against the crook of his neck, just before he pulled out of him.

“Oh yes. I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this on Tumblr in three parts: [part one](http://lavengadoraaa.tumblr.com/post/153711649116/seven-months-ago-i-finished-this-fic-i-promised), [part two](http://lavengadoraaa.tumblr.com/post/153871923581/you-can-read-part-1-here-youve-asked-for-it), and [part three](http://lavengadoraaa.tumblr.com/post/153875818726/you-can-read-part-2-here-this-one-is-nsfw).
> 
> I've added and revised those sections, though.


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